


Outtakes From Odessen

by Keldae



Series: Interludes [1]
Category: Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff, Gen, Humour, Hurt/Comfort, One-Shots, brought to you by the Great Tumblr Exodus 2K18, cross-posted from tumblr, kotet, kotfe, possibly some snippets from the traitor arc
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-03
Updated: 2019-04-09
Packaged: 2019-09-06 10:02:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 49
Words: 44,510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16830409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Keldae/pseuds/Keldae
Summary: Pre-KOTFE





	1. Stakeout

_Why can things never go according to plan?_ Theron inwardly wondered as he leaned against the wall, frowning at the small crack in the otherwise-boarded-up window. Outside, Tatooine’s twin suns scorched the tiny, abandoned moisture farm that was just visible through the crack. At least the air inside the old hovel was sheltered from the sun, even if the airflow wasn’t that great.

He would have opened the window to try and get a crossbreeze going, but that would have just announced his and Xaja’s position to the large and well-armed pack of Sand People travelling past the farm. These ones, fortunately, seemed to be migratory and not inclined to settle down in the ruined buildings.

Unfortunately, they were moving at what Theron was convinced was the slowest possible pace. “I’ve seen Hutts move faster than this,” he quietly grumbled.

“To be entirely fair, it’s mid-afternoon. Maybe they’ll pick up their pace when it gets a little cooler.” Xaja slumped down in an entirely undignified heap beside the wall and took a sip from one of her water canteens. At least she and Theron hadn’t come unprepared to meet up with Choza to plan their takedown of the Star Fortress looming overhead, just out of Theron’s field of vision. “Are they still moving, at least?”

Theron glanced back out. “Yeah, and not towards us. But they’re still too close, we’ll be seen and chased down if we try to move now. I don’t know about you, but I’m not keen on fighting a group that size.”

“It’s too hot to fight anything,” Xaja complained. She’d shed her lightly armoured jacket, and now was down to a tank top that clung to her in just the right ways to make Theron feel a rush of heat that had nothing to do with Tatooine’s suns. “We’re in for a long wait, then?”

“Looks like it.” Theron forced his stare away from Xaja’s petite frame to take a final look out the window. “We’ve probably got an hour, at least. Assuming they don’t stop.”

“May as well take the opportunity for a rest, right?” Xaja raised one of the canteens and gave it a pointed shake in Theron’s direction as he turned back around. “Drink something. I don’t know how to save you if you die of dehydration out here.”

“What, aren’t you amazing at everything?” Theron teased as he mimicked her example, shrugging off his jacket and sitting down beside her. The red leather may have offered some protection from stray blaster bolts and sharp objects, but it was a relief to expose his bare arms to the air.

“Remember what happened the last time I was given medical equipment more complicated than a kolto gel pack?” Xaja shook her head and smiled wistfully as she handed Theron the canteen. “I think Doc nearly had an aneurism.”

It wasn’t any matter that their first touches had been over five years ago, or that Theron was a regular fixture in Xaja’s bed- the brush of their fingers on the canteen still sent a pleasurable jolt through him. “And here I’d thought he was just stressed out because you’d gone tearing through the Revanite camp to find me without a plan after ‘find me’,” he said with a chuckle.

“No- well, okay, maybe that, with only an Imperial agent for backup who Doc didn’t trust yet. But apparently my attempts to put kolto on you were a crime to medicine.” Xaja smiled, but Theron still caught a glimpse of the sadness in her eyes that talking about her old crew still brought up.

“I don’t remember a hell of a lot from between you hauling me out of that base and coming to in the village to hear him grumbling,” he quickly said to distract Xaja from the painful memories, “but I’m still here, so you can’t have done that terrible a job. For what it’s worth, my semi-conscious self then probably appreciated your efforts.” He paused and grinned. “And if past-Theron didn’t properly thank his rescuer and would-be medic then for saving his ass, I’d like to make up for that now.”

Xaja softly laughed, the grief in her eyes fading to amusement. “I can’t actually remember if past-Theron thanked past-Xaja for that, mostly because I spent most of that speeder ride terrified you were going to die on me anyway. But present-Xaja fully accepts those thanks, and would like to add that saving your ass was totally worth it.”

Theron grinned and leaned in to kiss Xaja’s cheek. “Mmm, still feel like I need to fully emphasize how much I appreciate all your heroism with saving my hide all those times…” he murmured as his lips travelled down to her jawline and neck, her pulse racing under her sweat-dampened skin.

“This is hardly the-” Xaja softly gasped as Theron found one tender area of her neck to nibble at. “… the time or place, Theron!” But her hands had still come up to touch him, slim fingers tangling into his hair to keep him right where he was on her neck.

“We do have time,” Theron whispered against her skin. “It’ll be a while before the tribe is pas-” Xaja suddenly froze, making the spy look up worriedly. “What’s wrong?”

“Shhh!” Xaja’s eyes darted to the crumbling staircase the pair had climbed up not much earlier. “We’ve got company.”

Theron frowned as he lifted his head, reaching for a blaster as he strained his ears and tried to forget how turned on he’d been seconds ago. “What do you feel?” he whispered.

Xaja’s eyes narrowed in concentration. “Two below us,” she breathed out, barely audible. “A few more scouting nearby.”

 _Blast it!_ The bastards had the worst possible timing. Theron shifted as he raised the blaster, making sure to keep his body between the staircase and Xaja. The Sand People were very stealthy, but he was pretty sure he could hear the rustling of robes on the ground below- and then, a grunt in the aliens’ language that he couldn’t understand. He glanced back at Xaja and mouthed ‘ _Fight?_ ’ at her.

Xaja thought for a second, then shook her head. ‘ _Too many_ ’, she mouthed back, gesturing to the window and the rest of the tribe outside.

Theron frowned, then sharply looked to the staircase. That was the distinct sound of a footstep on a stair that he’d heard. Apparently Xaja wasn’t going to get her wish to remain hidden and out of combat. _If I hit it with a toxin dart, it’ll be quiet until its buddies come looking for it, but maybe it’ll buy us time to find a way out of here-_

A slim hand landed on his wrist and lowered his arm despite the ascending enemy. “Trust me,” Xaja breathed into Theron’s ear, barely loud enough for him to hear her, close proximity notwithstanding.

Theron gave Xaja an incredulous look, then looked back as the Sand Person’s helmeted head came into view. The hand on his wrist tightened to firmly push his blaster down despite his instincts. Xaja’s other hand waved through the air as the Sand Person turned to look directly in their direction in the traditional style of a Jedi mind trick.

The alien paused and shook its head in confusion, but didn’t start shouting an alarm to its fellow tribe members. It took a step forward, but Xaja waved her hand again, and it froze, seeming to think for a moment before it turned and headed back down the stairs. Theron heard the mumbles and growls of the nomads’ language, then footsteps and silence.

On silent feet, Xaja got up and crept over to the window. “They’re gone for now,” she whispered, “but there’s still half the tribe exploring outside. I think I’ve tricked the one into thinking up here is empty and too dangerous to explore, but it’s hard to do a mind trick that influences the mind of someone who doesn’t speak the same language.”

“Those don’t wear off fast, do they?” Theron whispered as he glanced suspiciously at the staircase.

“Not usually. I caught it off-guard so it should take well.” Xaja crept back over and slid down beside Theron again. “But we’ll have to be careful. Not sure how many I can mindtrick all at once.”

Theron nodded and settled in to wait out the tribe’s exploration of the area, his fingers drifting down to weave into Xaja’s hand comfortably. _They had to pick the hottest time of the day to trap us in here,_ he inwardly grumbled. At least sitting in the shaded, if somewhat stuffy, attic of an abandoned hovel was better than picking their way through the canyon in the blazing sunlight. Although to be entirely fair, moving would have kept him from thinking about the long nights he’d pulled recently to prepare for this new meetup. Some desert cultures treated the hottest part of the afternoon as a naptime, and right now, he could understand why.

But no, he had to stay awake to keep watch. That heaviness in his eyes was just sand that he’d picked up during their gallivanting around Tatooine. He softly sighed and squirmed a bit until his aching back found a bit of respite in his position.

“You okay?” Xaja softly whispered as she took another sip from her canteen.

“Yeah,” Theron murmured. “Back’s just sore. Floor’s not exactly luxury seating.” He grinned and rested his cheek against her shoulder.

Xaja smiled and teasingly raked her fingers through Theron’s hair. She was the only person in the galaxy allowed to muss up Theron’s hairstyle. “Sorry,” she whispered. “Anything I can do to help?”

“I’ve found a comfy human pillow, and it’s pretty, too.” Theron winked up at her and snuggled in to make a point. “Much better already.”

Xaja had to press her fingers against her lips to not laugh. “I live to serve,” she murmured, her fingers continuing to stroke through his hair.

Theron did try to stay awake, honestly, and every so often jolted his eyes towards the staircase when he thought he heard something from downstairs. But between the heat, the fatigue, and his comfortable human pillow with her constant playing with his hair, it was an embarrassingly short time before his eyes finally closed and his breathing evened out. Those other desert cultures with their afternoon naps in the heat had a smart idea…

* * *

Xaja had drifted into meditation after several minutes of silence between her and Theron, using the Force to track the points of life that were the Sand People. They’d finally moved away from the hovel, but were still far too close to risk moving yet.

That suited their situation just fine. She felt Theron’s Force-presence fade into sleep despite his best efforts, and wasn’t sure whether she should smile fondly or groan in exasperation. Staying awake in the heat and immobility was difficult enough without a peacefully-resting man resting on her like he was, all comfortably snuggled into her neck. She was tempted to nudge him awake, but she could see the lines of fatigue running through his Force-signature. _He needs rest. And he feels so comfortable and at peace -- it would be cruel to wake him up._

The fact that she hadn’t stopped stroking his hair, even in her meditative state, had exactly _nothing_ to do with that.

The petite Jedi carefully shifted so she could rest her head against his without disturbing him, casting out again with the Force. Yes, the Sand People were still moving past the hovel with no further interest in the supposedly-empty buildings, but they’d be a while in moving to a safe enough location for the two hiding humans to escape. Plenty of time to meditate and let Theron get a well-deserved nap in. And the fact that Theron’s slow, even breathing was setting the pace for her own breaths and his arm had fallen across her waist to cuddle her despite the heat had absolutely _nothing_ to do with how difficult her thoughts were becoming to order and align properly.

Jedi mental discipline only goes so far when confronted with heat and a comfortable snuggling companion, and it wasn’t long before Xaja’s meditation turned into a nap of her own, cheek pillowed in his hair. What better way to spend a couple of hours in the heat and silence of a hiding place?


	2. Phobia

It was a closely guarded secret that Xaja Taerich, Jedi Battlemaster and Alliance Commander, the Hero of Tython, Outlander, Irritator of Valkorion, Downfall of Two Zakuulan Emperors (to date) and Persistent Thorn In Vaylin’s Side, had three severe phobias. The number of people who knew the specifics of said phobias were limited to a very few certain trusted (or snoopy) individuals.

First, there was the fear of carbonite. Xaja still had nightmares about being trapped in a carbon freezing chamber while still being fully conscious, something that Theron could attest to. Given her past history, it was a perfectly reasonably phobia that mostly everyone in the base had at least a suspicion of. And the first thing Arcann had done when he’d arrived on Odessen and had managed to not get shot by Xaja’s security detail (mostly consisting of her father and brothers) was apologize profusely for his imprisonment of her, even going to his knees. Theron suspected the former Emperor was still apologising, and probably would be for the rest of his life. That was to be expected, as he was pretty sure Xaja hadn’t quite forgiven him for that yet. Theron himself most certainly hadn’t.

Then there was the fear of shock collars and restraints. That had been a fear of Xaja’s from long before Zakuul’s invasion. Theron suspected it’d had something to do with Vitiate’s first imprisonment of her back when her Jedi strike team had been overwhelmed and put under Sith mind control. Xaja had been quite unwilling to talk about it, but Cipher Nine (who’d managed to infiltrate the station where she was being held and eventually helped free her) had hinted at shock collars being used to torture the Jedi prisoners. He hadn’t wanted to talk about the ordeal in freeing his daughter from Sith captivity either, and Theron knew better than to push the older spy on the subject.

He’d also learned pretty quickly how little Xaja liked being bound when they were in bed together, no matter what other kinks she might have been interested in. But that was something for another day.

The third phobia was far more mundane, and couldn’t be explained back to any past trauma (that Xaja could recall -- and really, if it was anyone except the Alliance Commander who openly admitted to having this particular fear, there would have been sympathy and understanding from her peers… and probably some merciless teasing. But Xaja firmly believed she had to give off the image of being invulnerable and strong around her alliance members, despite Theron’s insistences to the contrary.

Which was how Theron found himself being urgently summoned to Xaja’s quarters (unofficially known as _their_ quarters) on an otherwise ordinary afternoon about two days after Arcann had defected to Odessen. Brushing off the laughter from Koth at what that ‘urgent summoning’ could possibly be from the pretty Commander, Theron strode out of the war room, turned left down the hallway, and palmed open Xaja’s door without the need for knocking.

Dirtier minds on Odessen might have, upon hearing of the Commander’s midday summoning of her known lover (honestly, the worst-kept secret in Wild Space), imagined the pretty red-haired woman lounging in a seductive pose wearing something less than her normal light armoured uniform. Such minds would have been surprised to see that same Commander, in her normal gear, pressed up against a wall and staring in mute terror at a small dark spot on her couch’s headrest. Theron sighed as he walked up beside his girlfriend and lightly touched her shoulder, making her start. “At least you called me before HK this time?”

“It’s fast,” Xaja whispered, still staring at the offending intrusion without so much as a smile for Theron. “It’s fast and it’s huge and probably toxic and it’s pure evil on eight legs.”

“Ah.” Theron sagely nodded. “Valkorion’s found a new way to torment you, has he?”

Xaja made some sort of strangled whimper that sounded like affirmation, then looked up at Theron with the most pleading expression she could muster. “Kill it? Please?”

As if Theron would have ever been able to deny Xaja anything, even as he sighed and cautiously approached the couch, eyeing the source of his lover’s terror with a glare. “Theron Shan, former Jedi trainee, former top SIS agent, current operations director for the Odessen Alliance, and head of the Commander’s personal Spider Killing Squad,” he said over his shoulder with a chuckle. “I think we might have to talk about a pay raise for my newest job here.”

“Theron!” Xaja didn’t find that half as funny as he did.

“Sorry, love.” Theron slowly removed one of his boots, then resumed his cautious advance toward the couch. The spider shifted slightly, a dark blob against the blues and greys of the fabric. “That’s it, beastie…” Theron muttered under his breath as he slowly lifted his weapon of choice against the spider. What else were boots made for, anyway? “Just stay right there…”

The spider had to have been Force sensitive and aware of Theron’s intentions, because it hauled itself away a nanosecond before Theron’s boot could smush it into an unrecognizable pile of dead arachnid and vanished down the side of the couch.

Xaja emitted a sharp, terrified squeak as she darted further away from her contaminated couch. “Where is it?!”

Theron swore eloquently as he quickly hobbled around the couch, hazel eyes darting around. There -- that looked to be a suspiciously spider-like leg halfway under the furniture. Theron stomped down with the foot that wasn’t clad in only an unprotected sock, and growled as the spider retreated further under the couch. “Get back here, you son of a --”

The door slid open, and Lana poked her blonde head in. “Commander, there’s been a- what’s going on?” she asked, observing the scene in front of her.

“Spider,” was all Xaja squeaked out by way of explanation.

Theron heard a sharp intake of breath, and then a noise that sounded suspiciously like Lana had just grabbed Xaja’s arm. The Sith was the only person on the base more afraid of spiders than Xaja was. “What?! Where? Is it dead?!”

“Working on it, ladies!” Theron raised his head and scowled at the wall. “Can one of you get HK? I need that concentrated cleaning solution he had on the _Gravestone._ ”

“Not a flamethrower?” Lana asked.

“It’s the only way to be sure,” Xaja agreed, eyes wide and face pale.

“Hey, I live in this room too, I’d like to keep this furniture inta _AAGH_!” Theron jumped as the spider picked that moment to run across his sock-clad foot and make a break for safety under Xaja’s bed. _Kriff this,_ the spy thought as he dropped his boot and made for a blaster, ignoring both Jedi and Sith screeching behind him as they caught sight of their most feared and hated nemesis.

The spider had almost made it to safety before Theron’s shot at close range nailed it, ending its ability to cause further terror on the base. The spy reholstered his blaster, tugged his boot back on, and turned to exit the room, trying to not shake his head at Xaja and Lana, who were both still clinging to each other and staring at the smoking remains of the offending spider. “You’re welcome,” he said as he let himself out.

Go figure, Arcann and Koth were both right outside the door, both looking alternately like they were sizing each other up for a fight and bewildered at what was going on in the Commander’s quarters. “Was that… blaster fire?” Arcann asked in confusion.

Theron thought about just saying the truth, and then rationalized that Xaja would probably never forgive him for telling Arcann about one of her phobias. “Weapon malfunction,” was all he said.

“… Connected to Lana screaming like a banshee?” Koth craned his head at the door curiously, then looked at Theron with an evil grin. “What kind of weapon malfunction are we talkin’ here? You weren’t summoned very long, after all -- OW!”

“Shut up, Koth.” Theron gifted the Zakuulan with a glare as he returned to the war room, hearing Arcann stifle a snort (poorly) and having to endure the curious glances everyone else gave him as he returned to his station. _The things I do for her…_

His musings were interrupted by Xaja’s loud screech that could be heard quite clearly without the need for a com. “THERON! THERE’S ANOTHER ONE!”

Theron sighed and started walking back to her quarters with snickers from the rest of the command staff echoing behind him, tapping his ear implant to bring up HK’s frequency. “Get to the Commander’s quarters, and bring your favourite spider-killing cleaning solution,” he growled out. “Before she and Lana tear the place apart trying to get rid of all the spiders themselves.”


	3. Vulnerability

“How long has your dad owned this place?” Theron asked as he stepped out on the balcony overlooking the widespread sands of Tatooine. Below him, he could survey the entire little settlement that didn’t resemble anything so much as a very large, if not well-used, moisture farm.

“He said he bought it not long after I disappeared and Zakuul invaded. He uses it more as a hideout when he wants to avoid Anchorhead or Mos Eisely. Apparently there’s enough covert security systems here to keep even the most adventurous Sand People deterred from here.” Xaja came up beside Theron, slipping the settlement key back into her trouser pocket. “The only people to come through here while he’s owned the place were a couple groups of Jawa traders.”

“Nice and secure then.” Theron looked up at the dusky sky. The Star Fortress was finally gone, and now he and Xaja were staying low for a couple of days until the Zakuulans in the area quit looking for her. This out-of-the-way stronghold was an ideal location. “It’s not too shabby for a hideout either.”

Xaja laughed. “Dad might have been more concerned with practicality when he bought it, but he and Korin both spent enough time here that they at least made it comfortable.” She came up and wrapped her arms around Theron’s waist, resting her cheek against his back. He’d shed his jacket already, letting him feel her presence better through only the shirt he still wore. “In case you hadn’t noticed, my father’s not the biggest fan of ‘roughing it’.”

“I guess it comes with age.” Theron grinned and reached up to squeeze Xaja’s hands around his midsection.

“Hey, I’m pretty sure there’s some sort of etiquette about poking fun at his age when he’s not here to defend himself,” Xaja scolded, although Theron could hear the laughter in her voice.

“No, see, this way I can make fun of him without the risk of getting stabbed or shot or poisoned.”

There was a deep inhale that Theron could feel quite pleasantly against his back, then an exasperated sigh. “Is this some sort of spy rivalry thing you two have constantly going on?”

“I’ll have you know, that’s a very sacred tradition among spies originating from opposite corners of the galaxy,” Theron retorted as he reached around to give Xaja a poke in the ribs. “So you-”

Xaja squeaked and jumped away from Theron’s poking finger. Immediately the spy froze, craning his neck to look over his shoulder at the tiny woman behind him. “What? Did I hurt you?”

“No…”

Something about Xaja’s meek tone of voice made Theron squirm until he’d turned around in her arms and could look down at her. “Are you sure? Did I just find a new bruise from that Exarch that you didn’t tell me about?”

“Theron, I promise I’m not hurt!”

Theron frowned as he rested her hands on her bare arms, then slowly ran his fingers over her ribs. Nothing felt broken or inflamed, but she still seemed more tense than usual… An idea presented itself to him, and his fingers poked her again in the stomach, making her squeak again.

An evil grin slowly spread across Theron’s face as he realized what was wrong. “You’re ticklish!”

Xaja’s vivid green eyes went wide. “Am not!” Her voice was far too fast and high-pitched to even make a valiant effort at being believable.

“All evidence seems to point to the contrary, Commander.” Theron demonstrated with his fingers dancing across her ribs, and he was hard-pressed to not laugh as she tried to jump away from him. “Hmm, whatever should I do with this new information…”

“Umm… let me go and forget this conversation ever happened?”

“Yeah, I could do that…” Theron grinned wickedly as Xaja’s eyes widened further, “but where’s the fun in that?”

“For kriff’s sake, Thero-EEEEEP!” Xaja squealed as Theron launched his assault on her sensitive sides, the fragments of her Jedi decorum rapidly disintegrating into shrieks and giggles. Apparently having one’s ribs and stomach mercilessly tickled was enough to make a Master of the Jedi Order forget that they could in fact use the Force to escape this predicament, because instead of merely throwing Theron away (or even trying to retaliate on his own ribs, which Theron refused to admit would have been a very successful retaliation), she instinctively tried to lower herself away from the assault and Theron’s fingers, curling in on herself in a vain effort to protect her sides.

Theron just followed her down, laughing as he managed to grab one of her hands. Xaja realized her predicament too late, and tried to flee before Theron pinned her to the floor of the balcony with his heavier body weight, getting both of her wrists caught over her head. The petite Jedi squealed and squirmed under the spy, in such a way that Theron very nearly got distracted enough to let her go. “You are such a jerk!” she gasped out as she tried to tug her hands free of Theron’s grip.

“Damn straight, and you keep me around anyway.” Theron grinned down at his still-squirming Jedi captive and tried not to think too hard about what her squirming was doing to him down south. “Apparently you’re a glutton for punishment, Master Jedi.”

“Kriff you.”

“That can be arranged.” Theron lowered his head to drop a kiss on Xaja’s lips. “Anyone ever tell you you’re adorable?”

Xaja’s breathing seemed to finally settle a bit as she kissed Theron back. “Only you, pretty much every morning you wake up with me.” She looked up at her pinned hands, then back at Theron’s eyes. “Truce?”

“Hmmm…” Theron pretended to think about it as he moved to hold Xaja’s wrists with only one larger hand, his other hand slowly drifting down her side and making her flinch away from him. “I suppose terms of surrender can be worked out.”

“I said no such thing about surren --” Xaja squealed as Theron’s fingers found a particularly sensitive spot on her ribs. “Okay! You win! Lemme up!”

Theron chuckled as he finally released her hands and rolled to the side so she could breathe. “I need to make a note of this day. 12 Melona, twenty --”

“Hey!” Xaja swatted Theron’s chest as she rolled to face him. “That’s not very nice of you to poke fun!”

“Or exploit what poking does to you?” Theron smirked and reached a hand over, trying to not laugh as Xaja’s eyes darted to warily watch his hand until it rested on her cheek. “Poking fun might not be nice… but it’s so entertaining. I didn’t even know you could squeal like that.”

“Theron!”

Theron laughed at Xaja’s glare. “Okay, okay, sorry.” He leaned forward to kiss her again, then pulled back to look at her contemplatively. “I wonder where else you’re ticklish…”

“Theron Shan, you touch my feet and I won’t be responsible for what happens to your face.”

“Okay, fine, feet are off-limits.” Theron grinned. “But…”

Xaja squeaked as Theron suddenly moved to touch the back of her knee. Oh, yep, that was another sensitive zone. “ _Theron!_ ”

Theron grinned as she snatched his hand, quickly rolling them both over again and losing himself in another kiss that she reciprocated. One more important bit of information that he could keep all to himself and not share with anyone else in the Alliance…


	4. Adoption

Theron walked up the durasteel ramp to Admiral Aygo’s command centre, the ringing of his boots on the metal decking doing nothing to distract the three men staring up at the ceiling. That was the former SIS agent’s first indication that something was terribly wrong- Reanden Taerich, more known by his moniker of Cipher Nine, a longtime double-agent with SIS and Sith Intelligence, should never have been so distracted by something that he was unaware of an approaching person.

The looks on the men’s faces were the second indicator that something was wrong. Reanden looked thoroughly irritated, Admiral Aygo had an expression of what seemed to be abject horror, and Doctor Lokin just looked… equal parts amused and mildly perplexed. Although the old man had permanently worn a hint of a smug expression since he and the former Cipher Nine had arrived on Odessen four days ago, so maybe he was just closer to puzzled.

Theron came to a stop beside the older three, not earning so much as a glance or a word of greeting from any of them, and had been about to ask what the hell was going on when -- was that a _chittering_ noise from above him? The younger agent (indeed, the youngest man here by probably at least ten years) looked up, eyes widening… “… Doctor Lokin, what exactly is a rakghoul doing in the rafters of the hangar?”

“I’d like to know the answer to that myself,” growled Aygo.

“He likes to perch up high. It lends him a good view of his surroundings,” offered Doctor Lokin with a far calmer tone of voice than any man had a right to use when there was a rakghoul twenty metres over his head, chittering down at his audience with what Theron suspected to be a gleeful tone, if rakghouls knew what glee was.

“… It’s a rakghoul. In the ceiling of the Alliance military hangar.” Theron looked down from the lurking rakghoul to glare at Lokin. “You _do_ know what rakghouls do to people, right?”

Aygo made some noise in his throat that could have been a furious, poorly-strangled snarl… or it could have been a terrified groan.

“He’s quite tame, really.” Lokin offered Theron a placating smile. “Scritchy wouldn’t harm anyone.”

There was a long pause. “… I can’t believe you named your pet rakghoul _Scritchy_ ,” Reanden finally growled out.

“It’s a perfectly fine name!” Lokin protested.

“I can’t believe that’s your biggest problem with this entire situation!” Theron snapped.

Above their heads, 'Scritchy’ suddenly made a louder noise, then appeared to regurgitate whatever (or whoever?) it had last eaten. The four-man audience quickly darted to the side as a small pile of rakghoul vomit decorated the deck where they’d been standing a moment ago.

“That,” muttered Aygo, who appeared to be pale under his fur, “is the foulest thing I’ve smelled in years.”

Theron gave the rakghoul a baleful glare upward, earning a smug chitter in response, then frowned at Lokin. “So, have you explained to the Commander yet why there’s a virus-carrying creature running around loose in her base?”

Lokin’s eyes widened. Apparently he’d neglected to warn Master Xaja of that bit of news.

“I’m not explaining this,” Reanden groaned. “I’m having flashbacks to her mother learning about the gizka her brothers adopted on a whim.”

“Did you just compare Scritchy to a mindless gizka?” Lokin inquired, a dangerous tone coming to his voice as he glared at his old cohort.

“The gizka wasn’t at risk for spreading a plague to every single inhabitant of the base,” Reanden growled. “We can’t have T.H.O.R.N. out here if the worst happens!”

“Maybe we can get it out of here before the Commander finds out about it?” Aygo mused.

“Not likely,” Theron muttered. “She was two minutes behind me, just got stopped talking to Lana.”

Lokin and Reanden shared a mutually-terrified look before the old scientist looked back up at the rafters. “C'mon, Scritchy,” he cajoled the rakghoul, and Theron secretly hoped he’d never have to hear the old agent trying to sound sweet and gentle like that again. “Let’s come down before we have an angry Jedi on our hands.”

Scritchy made a sound that Theron swore was a cackle, and climbed to a slightly higher rafter to gloat at the humans, and one Bothan, below him.

Theron groaned, then looked to the entrance of the hangar as two lightsaber-carrying women appeared- one with short blonde hair, and one significantly shorter with longer red locks. “Blast it!”

Lokin’s face paled to match his hair and jacket. “You’re in on this too,” he muttered at his three unwilling cohorts. “He broke out of his cage and we’ve been trying to corral him ever since.”

“You don’t even _own_ a cage for it!” Reanden snapped.

Theron had his mouth partway open to tell both of the older agents to quit their bickering (and to tell Lokin that he had absolutely zero part in any of this mess) before Aygo suddenly clapped his shoulder. “Agent Shan,” he said loudly, “I’ve got some new intel from my scout forces that you’ll want to take a look at, right this way…” as he led the younger man away from the scene of Scritchy’s escape.

“Thank you,” Theron hissed under his breath as he let himself be led to safety from the rakghoul, two very irritated Imperial-trained agents, and the scene that was about a minute away from witnessing a Jedi Master’s fury.

“Don’t mention it,” Aygo muttered. “Ever.” He approached a desk on the far side of a starfighter and produced a couple of datapads, pushing one at Theron. “Besides, I actually do have things for you to look into. Ever heard of Qyzen Fess?…”

Theron did try to focus on the datapads, honest. But he was still watching out of the corner of his eye when Xaja Taerich stopped only a pace away from the rakghoul vomit that would have irrevocably stained her boots, then looked up to the ceiling. “… Doctor Lokin,” she finally said, her voice the precise level of dangerous calm that promised she was one bad explanation away from tearing the agent’s head off, “what the _hell_ is a rakghoul doing in the ceiling of the military wing?”

* * *

Four hours later, Theron was convinced he was going to be the first medically documented case of a human’s eyes literally bulging out of one’s skull. If he wasn’t, Korin probably would be at the sight both of them were facing. “What the hell?…”

Xaja sighed as the little rakghoul capered along behind her, acting for all the world like a damned pet. “I apparently have been adopted by a foot-tall virus-carrying plague-causing critter.” She looked down at Scritchy (who had come to sit right beside her left boot and stare up at her with something Theron felt he could call 'adoration’), then back at Theron and Korin with a scowl. “Not a word out of either of you.”

“Not a word about what?” Korin asked quickly.

“Exactly.” Xaja resumed walking, Scritchy in her wake. “Maybe I’ll sic him on Vaylin…”

And so, Theron didn’t breathe so much as a word about Xaja’s apparent new pet to anyone (except joining with her family and close confidants when complaining about the little rakghoul, and loudly complaining every time the little creature tried to sneak into his and Xaja’s quarters). But if he did have a few holoimages that he’d taken covertly and at great personal risk of Xaja petting the little beast with something approaching affection… well, maybe he could pin them on Koth if she ever found out. But for now, he just grinned every time he saw the holos.


	5. Recruitment

In the last year and a half, the Fleet cantina onboard Carrick Station had experienced a steadily-decreasing population. In times past, the place would have been filled with smugglers, mercenaries, off-duty soldiers, and Jedi passing through on Order (or personal) business; now most of those normal regulars had been killed or, in the case of the Jedi, driven into exile. Even the smugglers were fewer, with most of them having fallen to Zakuul’s harsh justice system or laying low to avoid said justice.

Theron knew the man he was looking to meet was still alive and kicking, having slipped through Zakuul’s fingers more than once already. Hopefully he wasn’t as afraid to show his face as the spy was currently dreading.

The dark-haired agent took a swallow from the bottle in front of him, the low burn of what claimed to be Corellian ale (but given how expensive such a luxury was nowadays, probably just a knock-off) lingering in the back of his throat. It was a self-medication that he’d turned to ever since the news of Darth Marr’s flagship being destroyed had reached his ears, with the confirmation of her death aboard it. Or had she been captured and taken to Zakuul for execution there? Reports conflicted. Either way, she was gone from the galaxy, her like to never be seen again, and the void in his heart that she’d left behind one that would never be filled.

The only thing that kept him from succumbing to the pain that threatened to consume him was the thought of revenge, or justice, or whatever the kriff one wanted to call it. But Theron knew not even he, in all of his grief-filled rage, could make Zakuul burn by himself for what they’d done. He needed help.

That help dropped into the booth across from him, once all cocky smiles and charismatic bravado, now hunched shoulders and dark lines under his eyes and grey showing up in his dark blond hair. Theron was willing to bet that the normally-laughing, prank-masterminding smuggler hadn’t so much as smiled since the news of his sister’s death. “You look like hell,” the newcomer quietly said by way of greeting, his voice low and rougher than Theron had grown accustomed to.

“So do you, Captain,” Theron answered the spacer, watching Korin Taerich flinch minutely. “Are you…”

“Okay?” Korin snorted bitterly. “My sister was killed by those sons of bitches from Wild Space. My little brother’s vanished from Imperial Space, and I can't figure out if he's run or if someone killed him for being on the Dark Council. And my father’s gone completely off the radar, no idea where the hell he is or if he’s even still alive an’ unless he contacts me, no way to know anythin’ about him. How the _hell_ do you think I am?”

Theron had lost his lover. Korin had lost his sister, his brother, and possibly his father. The spy pushed over the still-unopened bottle of ale beside him. “Look like you could use this.”

“Thanks,” Korin mumbled as he accepted the bottle, cracked it open with a practised twist of his wrist, and took a long drink from it. “You still look like shit.”

“Feel like it.” The words escaped Theron’s mouth before he could reign them in. Maybe his own drink had hit him harder than he’d thought, especially considering he wasn’t eating or sleeping more than the bare minimum to survive, now that he thought about it. “Nothing’s been right since she…”

Korin slowly nodded. “Kira said that you an’ her were-”

"I'd been planning on asking her to move in with me when she got back," Theron quietly confessed into his ale. "I wish... kriff, I wish she hadn't..."

“The son of a bitch on that gorram shiny throne’s gonna answer for this,” Korin finally growled, eyes flashing. “Dunno how, but I’m gonna kill him myself.”

“If I don’t first,” Theron muttered, hand tightening around his ale.

“… I take left side, you take right?”

“Works for me.”

“Good.” Korin took another swig of his drink. “Now we just gotta find a way to burn Zakuul to its own damn core. Any plans?”

“Not directly, but I do have a suggestion.” Theron hadn’t contacted Korin for a social call, after all. He reached under his jacket and pulled out a datapad. “You’re damn good at your job, you know.”

“I’m still here, ain’t I?” Korin scowled at his drink. “Besides, bein’ good at what she did didn’t save Xaja from-” His sentence ended abruptly as pain flashed through his eyes, a pain Theron felt too well, something that couldn’t be helped with meds or kolto. “… Sorry.”

Theron’s shoulders slumped under his jacket as he focused very, very intently on his datapad. In a fair fight, Xaja should have won any fight that came her way, even against Emperor Arcann. Hell, she’d fought Vitiate and won before, hadn’t she? He took a moment to regain his composure (it wouldn’t do for him to break down here, of all places, with regret and mourning for Xaja Taerich consuming him so completely), then looked back at Korin when he felt marginally more stable. “Like I was saying- you’re good. Hell, you’re almost as good as _me_ as a slicer, and I know you can smooth-talk your way onto Dromund Kaas of all places, maybe even Zakuul. And you’re Force-sensitive enough to be dangerous in all the right ways to the right people.”

“You didn’t yank me out here to stroke my ego, Shan. What is it?”

This was borderline treason against the Republic, depending who one talked to. Theron didn’t care. He pushed the datapad over the table at Korin. “I’m offering you a job.”

“What, with the SIS?”

“No. I need an asset who’s as good as me, on the same plan as me, and not tied to the Republic.” Theron took a deep breath, knowing the hell he would catch from the Director or his father if news of this got out. He’d just been reinstated not that long ago, too… but he didn’t care. “And somebody with a healthy regard for discretion… and who wants the same thing I do.”

“Arcann’s metallic head on a platter.” Korin lifted the datapad, reading Theron’s proposed offer. “You train me into bein’ your mini-me, send me out into the dark an’ nasty areas of space you can’t get to, an’ have me report directly back to you without your bosses gettin’ wind of this?”

“Essentially, yeah. I don’t think I need to say what’ll happen to me if this gets out.”

“Half surprised that _schutta_ in the Senate didn’t try to have you excommunicated entirely after Ziost already.”

“Who says she didn’t?”

Korin snorted mirthlessly. “Hated that woman from the minute I first landed on Taris, way the hell back when. Hated her even more after she called Xaja a traitor.” He set the datapad down and met Theron’s eyes head-on. “When do I start?”

Theron blinked in surprise. “What, no bickering on the salary?” It wasn’t like Theron was exactly swimming in credits despite his workaholic tendencies, but he had enough to compensate Korin modestly for this… not that he’d ever known any career criminal like Korin to be satisfied with merely ‘modest’.

“For this? Revenge on Zakuul and a middle finger to Saresh?” Korin’s eyes glittered maliciously. “I’d do this for _free_. All I want out of this extra is to figure out where the kriff my father is and what the hell happened to my brother.”

“Done. I'll keep an ear open through the official channels for either of them.”

“Think we got ourselves a deal then.” Korin reached across the table and shook Theron’s hand.

“Good. My place at 0800 tomorrow- coordinates are on the datapad.” For the first time since before Xaja was murdered and Zakuul invaded, Theron felt something approaching a smile on his face- that is, if the tightening of his mouth in a grim vengeance-promising expression could be called a smile. “This sounds like the start of a wonderful partnership, Captain.”

“Yeah, it’ll be good workin’ with ya again… for you? Whatever.”

“Technicalities we can bicker about later.” Theron raised a hand in farewell as Korin collected the datapad and strode out of the cantina, then turned his attention toward the bar again. Seeing his dead lover’s brother made his heart hurt again in a way that no Jedi training could banish. Besides, it wasn’t like Korin had never seen him hungover before…

* * *

_Eight months later…._

“Hey, so, deal’s changed a bit. I picked up a new crewmember- but he’s gold, and knows his shit. And snoopy as hell, too.”

Theron sighed and gave Korin a dark glare that was almost obscured by the Promenade’s shadows. “Remind me why I hired you again and called you out here?”

“Because I’m damn good, that’s why. Besides, you’ll like this guy. Best part is that nobody knows he exists.” Korin turned and waved to a tall, lanky-looking stranger in an alcove a few paces off, wearing lighter-styled Mandalorian armour and with a dark scarf wrapped around his head and face.

Something about the stride of the stranger hinted at familiarity to Theron, but he still scowled at Korin. “If you risked security for this guy, he’d better be better than _me_ at my job, and more devoted to the cause.”

“Better than you? Hardly- well, not yet anyway.” The stranger lowered his scarf from his face, making Theron blink in shock. The accent was changed, now more Mandalorian than Imperial, and the eyes were dark brown and lined with dark bags underneath, and the hair was longer- hell, there was even a hint of scruffy facial hair. “But how does an ex-Sith with a vengeance pact for his sister sound?”

Theron stared numbly at the stranger for a long minute. “... Of all the people to be picked up, I never would have guessed you," he finally said. "Nice seeing you alive, Imperius."

“Imperius is dead, as far as anyone knows. And faking my death was the only way to be able to do something with the rest of the Dark Council sitting on their hands.” Sorand Taerich shrugged and shot a quick glance around the Promenade. "It helps that virtually nobody knew my real name before my ascension, and not many people would recognize Darth Imperius, especially not in Mandalorian space.”

“Your wife’s Mandalorian…” Theron breathed out as the pieces came together.

“And scary as hell when she wants to be. She got me adopted into her clan, and I don’t even think her _alor_ was going to argue with her on that.”

“I can believe it. I’ve met Shara.” Theron shook his head and clapped Sorand’s shoulder. “It’s good to see you alive and intact.”

“It's good to be alive. And the fringe benefit to leaving the Empire is keeping my children hidden.” Sorand’s eyes turned fond at the thought of his offspring. “Cuyan was born just after I escaped, and Rav’s three years old now.”

“Never would have thought a Sith could be such a doting parent, right?” Korin asked Theron with a grin. Such expressions were still rare from the spacer, but they were coming more often now. 

Sorand rolled his eyes. “Don’t listen to the uncle who’s on a set mission to spoil both my kids rotten.” He paused and looked at the durasteel plating under the three men, sorrow tangible even to Theron. “Xaja would have loved them…”

It was a perfect segway into Theron’s news. “I spoke with Lana a few days ago,” he started, watching both of Xaja’s brothers perk up attentively. “She’s been in contact with some Zakuulans whose sympathies do not lie with Arcann.” He hesitated for only a second. “Xaja might still be alive, frozen in carbonite in the Spire.”

Two sets of eyes, one hazel and one brown, widened in shock and a mirror of the same renewed hope that had invaded Theron’s heart the second Lana had told him that. And with that, the group of people in on the plans to rescue the Jedi prisoner from carbonite captivity doubled.


	6. Confession

There were only a few instances in Theron’s thirty-six years of life that had ever scared him witless. Getting captured by Darth Mekhis wasn’t the most terrifying incident of his life, but it ranked pretty high up there. Being on the _Ascendant Spear_ while the Republic fleet (under his father’s command!) opened fire on the Imperial ship… yeah, that was a scary time in Theron’s life. Watching the entire populace of Ziost turn into unwitting hosts of a genocidal maniac of a Sith ghost… he still had nightmares about that. Getting chased by a pack of Knights of Zakuul while he and Korin had been scouting out the Spire and trying to find a way in to Arcann’s private Carbonite Decoration Storage Facility… he and Korin had agreed to never, ever talk about it again.

Xaja Taerich vanishing from the security cams’ feed in a flash of light (quite against her will, if the scared expression on her face in the nanosecond before she’d disappeared had been any indication)? _That_ made him panic.

Three days of searching the forests near the base and trying to coordinate Havoc Squad (and Kaliyo)’s attack on the Gemini frequency transmitter later, and Theron’s heart didn’t start beating properly again until he’d heard her voice behind him, all business as usual, if exhausted-sounding. Xaja had limped into the command centre, looking like she’d been used as a punching bag or test dummy for an entire battalion of Knights, but alive and still with it enough to give orders over the comms to Kaliyo and Jorgan.

It had taken more willpower than Theron thought he’d had to not run over, grab Xaja in his arms, and never let her out of his sight again. But while the exhausted Jedi was giving her account of what had happened to her in the forest (and Satele Shan was on Odessen and had been for some time?! Theron very nearly picked up his holo to give his mother an appropriate chewing-out for her apparent habit of running off and abandoning people like him when she was damn well needed, except she probably wouldn’t have answered anyway.), the spy was dwelling on the thoughts and feelings that had consumed him over the last few days.

Theron had never figured himself to be the emotional type, or the sort of person to get attached easily (if at all) to others, and he was pretty sure he could thank his mother and the Jedi training he'd received as a child for that. But as he thought about the last six years, he realized he had become quite attached to the five-foot-nothing Jedi who’d strolled into his and Darok’s planning room so long ago. And she seemed to reciprocate at least the affection, and Theron had thought that maybe she did care about him when she’d come tearing into the Revanite compound to find him (not to mention all the more pleasant and private interactions they’d had between then and her disappearance). Theron had been devastated when the news of her death came through to the Republic, and he remembered the rekindled hope he’d felt when Lana had found him with word that the Jedi was still alive. 

_Is this what love feels like?_ he asked himself as he watched Xaja join Lana at the control panel, noting the frown on the pretty Jedi’s face as they lost contact with Havoc and Kaliyo. _The constant worrying about her safety? The want to make sure that she’s okay? The want to make sure that… she’s happy? The need to do anything for her to stay alive and well? The want to be with her every moment of the day?_

Theron wasn’t too familiar with the idea of love, and wasn’t exactly fond of reflecting too deeply on his own emotions, especially when they centred around the pretty redhead who so easily distracted him from his own life with just a smile. But this… he was pretty sure he wouldn’t have felt as much grief as he did during her long, frozen captivity over a mere friend, or even a Jedi legend. He knew for certain there was nobody else alive who he would have felt that panic for when Valkorion abducted her. 

_Kriff it. If that’s what love feels like, then… yeah. I think I love her._ Just thinking the words made something in Theron’s heart twinge, not unpleasantly. That feeling was still there some time later, when he’d finally gotten her back into their quarters and was tending to her injuries. “Are you sure you don’t need to go to medical or get Lana to heal you?” he asked as he gently rubbed the contents of a kolto pack on her bruised up back. “What the hell did you fall into?”

“I didn’t so much as ‘fall’ into anything as I got thrown against a cliff a couple of times. Telling Valkorion what he could do with his opinions, an angry mynock, and a rusty hydrospanner was worth it.” Xaja hissed as Theron’s fingers found a particularly sore area of her back. “Besides, I don’t rest well in medical. Too much distraction.”

“Mmm.” Theron finished his kolto application and gently tapped her shoulder for her to sit up, trying and almost succeeding at not staring at her fair skin when she didn’t bother putting her tunic back on and stayed in just a bra and her trousers. “And did he try to take a bite out of your arm in the process?”

“Nah. We just haven’t found all the-” Xaja yelped as Theron dabbed a disinfectant into the bite mark on her arm; the spy waited until she’d calmed herself and focused the pain away before continuing his ministrations. “… all the wildlife here yet.” She was silent for a little while, watching Theron work, before she spoke again. “You feel… different. Something shifted in the command room, something with you. What happened?”

Theron paused in his wrapping of her arm in a kolto-infused bandage. “I… had a realization and made a decision,” he finally said.

“About what?”

It took a moment for Theron to find the words he needed, a pause he filled by finishing with her bandage. “When you disappeared,” he finally started, “… I don’t think I’ve ever been as terrified as I was then. All I could think about was you, wondering where you were and if you were still even alive. When you came back alive, it… made me think about some things, things I didn’t really want to admit to before. Remember how I’m awful at this whole relationship thing?”

“Theron, what are you saying?” Xaja frowned and caught Theron’s hand with both of her own, her palms virtually dwarfed by him.

“… I can’t run from my feelings anymore,” Theron finally said as he clasped his free hand over hers. “I’ve always cared for you, worried about you, been happy to see you… your habit of vanishing against your will made me realize just how much I’ve always cared about you.” He looked up from their joined hands to meet her eyes. “I should have said this to you a long time ago. It just took the prospect of losing you again to make me work up the nerve to do it.” He took a deep breath, and finally whispered out the three hardest, most dangerous words he’d ever said in his life. “I love you.”

If he’d ever worried about if Xaja returned his feelings, those fears were laid aside as Theron suddenly found himself with an armful of half-naked Jedi woman, and felt her kiss on his cheek. “I love you too,” she murmured, pulling back to look him in the eyes. “I think I felt it when we were on Rishi, admitted it to myself after Ziost, but when you had five years to think about it and I didn’t, I thought you might… you know… not feel the same --”

Theron silenced her with the kiss he’d been waiting for three days to give her. “Those five years only convinced me that I couldn’t look at another person again or ever feel for them what I feel for you. I’m not the biggest ‘feelings’ guy around, but this… I can’t deny it. I fell in love with you on Rishi and it’s never stopped, no matter how much I tried to convince myself it wasn’t real and that you couldn’t feel the same.”

“Oh, Theron…” Xaja pressed her palm against Theron’s cheek comfortingly. “You would have only needed to say the words then and I would have been yours.”

“Yeah? I’m saying them now.” Theron leaned in to kiss her again. “I love you.”


	7. Unintended

The door hissed closed behind the pair of humans as they exited the resort, walking toward the taller one’s waiting shuttle. The two walked in silence, and from a long distance, one might have mistaken their silence as companionable or affectionate. This was, of course, assuming one was far back enough to not see how tense both of their backs were, and unable to see the clenched jaw on the darker-haired one.

Theron barely waited until the shuttle door opened and he set foot on the entrance ramp to finally escape the planet. “I can’t believe you did that,” he growled at his companion. “I kriffing hate you right now.”

“Hey, you said we needed to get in to meet that diplomat, for reasons! You’re the one who didn’t mention that it was a honeymoon resort he was staying at!”

“Don’t blame _me_ for what my intel didn’t dig up.” Theron glared at the other human. “I probably could have gotten us in some other way that didn’t involve your impromptu sob story about eloping because of my parents not approving!”

“It was the first thing to come to mind!” Korin scowled at Theron. “I wasn’t expecting the receptionist to be such a romantic softie!”

“It’s a honeymoon resort, what else were you expecting?”

“I don’t know, maybe a ‘awww, too bad, we’ll give you lots of privacy’ with a suggestive wink? Besides, it’s a honeymoon resort, implyin’ there’s already _been_ a wedding. Why would they have an officiant on-staff?…”

“For desperate lovestruck couples on a budget with plans of eloping in a hurry?”

“C’mon, nobody on a budget would go there. I’m pretty sure they could bankrupt some senators.”

“… Yeah, okay, point.” Theron sat down in the pilot’s chair, after giving Korin a warning look when the spacer tried to steal the seat, and started prepping the shuttle for takeoff. “What happened to your first grand plan of flirting us in?”

“I did flirt us in! Just… not the right way.” Korin raked his hand through his hair. “Look, I’m sorry I got us accidentally married, but at least we got that intel we were looking for?”

Theron gifted Korin with a scowl. “We are _not_ married. Fake names don’t count. And even if we were actually married, we’re getting it annulled.” He paused as he started piloting the ship upward. “For the record, your sister kisses way better than you do.”

“I could have gone the rest of my life without knowing that.” Korin shuddered. “Is it at least worth it if this intel is what gets her out of carbonite alive?”

“… Yeah, I guess getting Xaja back was worth kissing you.” Theron shot a sideways look at his partner in crime. “But that kiss should never have happened, and we never, ever speak of this again.” _Especially not where your father or brother could hear about it, because neither of us will ever live this down._

“Right. Got it.” Korin nodded in emphatic agreement.

There was silence on the shuttle for several long minutes as Theron piloted out of Zeltros’ atmosphere and plugged in the hyperspace coordinates for their next rendezvous point. Korin didn’t open his mouth again until the shuttle jumped to hyperspace. “So there’s one positive upside to this…”

“What’s that?” Theron warily asked with another sideways glance.

“Girls dig hot divorcees, right?”

“For kriff’s sake, Taerich!”


	8. A Hairy Discussion

Jedi weren’t generally known for experiencing fits of immense frustration- and even if they did, they generally weren’t known for verbalizing it.

But considering that Xaja was trying to brush a snarl out of her long red hair with her right arm in a sling (after an unfortunate incident with Korin, the lower levels of Nar Shaddaa, and one of the thugs he’d picked a fight with throwing a grenade at the siblings as they’d tried to escape), perhaps her muttered expletives could be forgiven. _Isn’t wet hair supposed to detangle better?_ she silently grumbled as she gave up with the brush for a minute and resorted to trying to unravel the knot in her hair with the Force.

Three minutes later, she was convinced she’d just made it worse. With a groan she flopped backward onto the bed, ignoring how her hair, still wet from the shower, started dampening the coverlet (on Theron’s side of the bed. Oops.). _Brushing one’s hair, even with one arm out of commission, should not be this difficult._

 _And you think you can defeat my children,_ came a snide little comment from Xaja’s unwanted passenger.

 _Temporary setback, now kriff off._ Xaja scowled as she sat back up and resumed attacking the snarl in her hair with a vengeance. But not even her frustration with her hair or Valkorion being his normal cheerful self could dislodge that stubborn tangle.

“Need a hand?” The voice off to Xaja’s right made her jump in surprise. Theron took a step back, eyes wide. “… Did I get you at a bad time?”

“No,” Xaja said as she relaxed and lowered her brush. “You just startled me.”

“Sorry. Spies walk quietly.” Theron came back up and sat beside Xaja on the bed. “How’s your shoulder?”

“Aches, but I’ve had worse.” Xaja slumped her uninjured side against Theron’s arm, earning a shiver from him as her still-damp hair brushed over his skin. “My hair’s going to be the death of me though. I’m half tempted to just cut it off.”

Theron started shaking his head before Xaja finished speaking. “No, no, _please_ don’t, your hair’s perfect as it is.” He ran his fingers through her long locks, pausing at the problematic tangle. “Well, almost. Gimme the brush.”

Xaja willingly surrendered the brush to Theron’s outstretched hand and turned her back to him, wincing a little as he started working on the knot. “Sorry,” Theron muttered, seeing her shoulders tense. “Whatever you did, it’s in here good. I haven’t seen one like this since… huh, not since some kid knocked engine coolant into my hair when I was a teenager.”

“Ooooh, that’s a bitch to get out.” Xaja winced in sympathy.

“Yeah, I kinda gave up and cut my hair after that. It used to be shoulder-length.” Theron paused as Xaja tilted her head back to give him a questioning look. “What? I was fifteen and went through a phase! All the swoop racers in my circuit at the time had hair like that!”

Xaja giggled at the mental image of Theron with a more youthful face and long hair. “I can’t really see you with long hair. Do any holos exist that prove it?”

“I really hope not,” Theron muttered. “The less said about my hair or ear piercings at the time, the better- _what?!_ Don’t judge what my idiotic teenage self thought was cool!”

Xaja couldn’t help it and nearly fell off the bed laughing. “Oh, please tell me there was a brightly coloured mohawk in your hairstyle choices at some point…”

“Hey, anything I did to my hair for an SIS op doesn’t count,” Theron grouchily said. “I _still_ haven’t forgiven my handler at the time for that brilliant idea.” He let go of Xaja’s hair and drew his legs up onto the bed, shifting his weight back against the headboard. “C’mere, this is gonna take a while.”

Stifling her amusement (although not quite able to fully rid herself of her grin), Xaja obediently crawled up and sat in between Theron’s legs, letting him reach her hair again. “So… how long did you have that long hair?”

“About a year or so.” Theron growled something incoherent at the knot, then went on. “By the end of it I was wearing it pretty much constantly like Sorand wears his now so it’d stay out of my face when I was racing. I’ve never had it that long since then… half because I wound up shaving it all off after the coolant incident.”

“That thought just breaks my heart.” Xaja strained her uninjured arm up to pet Theron’s fauxhawk and earned a half-hearted, distracted growl for her efforts. “I can’t imagine you with no hair either.”

“Yeah, but my speed on the tracks got so much better without the hair…” Theron made a satisfied-sounding noise and ran the brush through her hair without interference. “Hmm, better. Sit tight, let me find any more tangles.” 

Xaja settled back in to her comfortable position between his legs and sighed pleasurably at the sensation of the brush moving through her long locks. “So, when did your current style become a thing?”

“Not long before I met you, actually. I mostly started growing it to annoy my father. It used to be pretty short before then.” Theron hummed in thought. “I’m kinda starting to get bored of it though. Maybe I’ll shave it off again-”

“No, Theron!” Xaja looked up at Theron and shook her head. “Don’t shave it! I like it like this!”

“But this style takes so much work to maintain!” Theron protested. “Remember how you keep complaining about my gel in the ‘fresher?”

Xaja frowned up at her boyfriend. “If you shave your hair, I’m cutting mine short.”

The brush stopped moving, and Xaja felt Theron gently grip the sides of her head to tilt her further backward so she could more clearly see his crestfallen face. “No, I like playing with your hair like this!”

“I mean it, Shan.” Xaja glared. “Your hair stays, or mine goes.”

Theron sighed in defeat. “Fine, the hair stays.” He gently tilted Xaja’s head back up and resumed stroking her hair- with his fingers, not the brush. “You make a hard bargain, Master Taerich. Using your own hair as a hostage…”

“Hey, it clearly works!” Xaja reached up to pat Theron’s knee and very nearly purred when his fingers shifted to stroke her hair at her temples. “But let’s be real, I enjoy this too much to cut my hair off.”

“Good. That makes two of us.” Theron pressed a kiss into her hair as he continued to play with it. “I missed being able to do this while you were gone…” he quietly admitted. “Didn’t really realize how much I enjoyed it until I couldn’t do it anymore.”

“Hmm.” Xaja sighed contentedly, briefly catching one of his hands and bringing it down to kiss his palm before letting him go back to stroking her hair. “This feels nice.”

“I’m glad.” Theron leaned to kiss her forehead, then leaned back against the headboard so he could continue what he was doing. “I could do this forever.”

“Mmm… I’d like that.” Xaja let her eyes drift closed as she settled comfortably against him.

* * *

_Much, much, much later…_

“Oh, dude.” Korin groaned and raked a hand over his face as Theron’s holoimage frowned up at him. “Duuude. The _hair_.”

“I know,” Theron groaned and ran his hand over what remained of his hair. “Still not used to being able to feel my scalp like this.”

“You know, even if she forgives you for the train incident, she’s never going to let this go.”

“I _know!_ ” Theron snapped. “She’s going to hate me, Lana’s going to slap me upside the head, and your dad’s probably going to die laughing at me. Can we just get on with that status update?”

“Fine.” Korin shook his head and picked up a datastick. “Transmitting that data over to you now.”

* * *

_Still later…_

Xaja blinked at the newest image of Theron that Aristocra Saganu had supplied to the Alliance. A low growl emerged from her throat. “The bastard. He did _not_.”

“He didn’t do what?” Sorand looked over her shoulder and nearly choked on his caf. “Oh, that’s awful. Give that to Dad, he’ll have a field day with it. Has Theron actually lost his mind?”

“Apparently.” Xaja clenched her jaw as she whirled and stalked away from the holo. “See-Two!” she shouted for the protocol droid. “Find me a pair of scissors, will you?”

“Xaja?” Sorand turned to look at his sister, worry creasing his brow. “What are you doing?”

Xaja paused mid-stride and gave her youngest brother a look over her shoulder. “I told him that if he ever shaved his hair, I was cutting mine short. He kriffing asked for this.” Ignoring the way Sorand’s eyes widened in shock and dismay, she continued marching away, apparently determined to make Theron hurt back for at least one thing he’d done to her.


	9. Warming Up

The door slid closed, and Xaja wearily leaned back against it, still shivering too much to even contemplate removing her snow-caked jacket and soaked-through boots. Alderaan during midwinter was not for the faint of heart.

It also wasn’t meant for Jedi and spies who apparently couldn’t recognize that the snow shelf they’d chosen to traverse as a shortcut to the Zakuulan outpost for the Star Fortress wasn’t strong enough to support the weight of two human bodies. At least they’d only fallen a few metres when it broke and landed in the deepest snowbank Xaja had ever seen. It had been more than enough to bury her for several minutes until her squirming and Theron’s frantic digging had brought her back up to the surface. 

They’d finally made it back to the Alde palace that they’d been granted lodging at, but Theron had been almost immediately accosted by one of his contacts. He’d sent Xaja up ahead to their rooms with a promise to be not far behind her. And Xaja didn’t think he’d be too long in talking -- he looked to be as cold as she felt.

With a groan, the Jedi finally stepped away from the door and pried her boots off her feet, leaving them just out of easy-tripping range. Her sodden coat came off next, then her belt and lightsabers. She’d need to do maintenance on her weapons later, after she’d thawed out a bit. _Wonder how good the hot water supply here is,_ she mused as she made her way to the refresher door, breathing on her freezing hands in an attempt to get some feeling back into her fingers. She palmed open the door and gasped in surprised delight- while she’d been hoping for a hot shower, the huge bathtub in the ‘fresher was a dream she hadn’t been expecting. 

Leaving a trail of wet footprints behind her from her soaked socks, she shuffled over to the side of the tub and found the control panel to start filling it with hot water. Whichever Alde noble had installed this tub, they’d spared no expense- it even filled surprisingly quickly for a tub of its size. Xaja used the time waiting to remove the rest of her sodden clothing, hissing as she caught a look at the darkening bruises on her hip and leg. _Oh, Theron’s going to have that heart attack he keeps grumbling about when he sees that._ Taking a second to ensure that there were towels nearby (and there was a giant, fluffy stack of them, probably courtesy of some attentive droid), Xaja sat on the edge of the tub and dipped her feet into the water, and groaned at the immediate tingling as the heat reached down into the cold she could feel in her bones. She slipped down into the tub, letting the water cover her shoulders, and sighed in blissful contentment. This was even making her bruises and sore muscles feel better. In no hurry to get clean and get out of the water, the petite Jedi sat down on a ledge, leaned back against the wall of the tub, and closed her eyes. _Probably shouldn’t nap in here…_

The door to their quarters slid open, and Xaja heard heavy footsteps enter the bedroom. “Xaja?” Theron had finally returned. “Where are you?”

“In here,” Xaja called back, not bothering to open her eyes yet. She listened to the sounds of Theron removing his own boots and coat, muttering an expletive or two that she barely heard over the clatter of his gun belt being set on a table, then heard the rustle of wet fabric and chattering teeth as he finally entered the ‘fresher. “Good chat?” she asked, still not opening her eyes.

“Yeah, but not as good as this view,” Theron said as he approached the bathtub. Xaja sensed him stopping right beside her head, heard the tiny splash as his fingers passed through the water to touch her shoulder. Even with the hot water, the cool temperature of his skin still made her squeak. “Sorry.” 

“Stars, you’re cold.” Xaja finally opened her eyes and reached up to squeeze Theron’s fingers. Looking up, she took note of his still-red face and how sodden his shirt was. “You know this tub’s big enough for two people, right?”

“This isn’t a tub, it’s a swimming pool.” Theron smirked as he leaned down to kiss Xaja’s cheek. “I’m not so cold that I can’t appreciate the view in here.” The hand on her shoulder drifted down to dance teasingly over her skin under the water, coping a feel as he went.

“Yes, but _my_ view isn’t as good.” Xaja gave him an exaggerated pout and reached up to tug at his shirt. “C’mon, get in here and give me someone to cuddle. Your Commander orders it.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Theron winked and stepped back from the tub. For a few minutes, there were the sounds of him peeling off his wet clothing, before he stepped into the tub beside Xaja and sank down beside her with a relaxed groan. “So just so you know, I’m never leaving this tub again,” he blissfully sighed. “It’s so warm in here.”

“That makes two of us.” Xaja moved over to wrap her arms around Theron’s waist and pretend she hadn’t been shamelessly eyeing him while he’d been entering the tub and giving her a very nice view. “We’ll make Lana run things.”

“Yep.” Theron slipped his arms around her shoulders and pulled her tightly against him. “We like House Alde, right?”

“If we didn’t before, we do now.” Xaja rested her cheek on Theron’s shoulder and frowned at his visible bruises through the water. “Are you sure you’re okay? You fell hard off that snow shelf.”

“No less hard than you.” Theron gently ran a hand over her hip, which now was a dark purple instead of its normal fair shade. “I’ve never been so grateful for biosign readers in my implants as I am right now. I don’t know if I would have found you in time otherwise.”

Xaja shook her head into Theron’s neck. “But you did.” She closed her eyes and tried to forget the feeling of panic when she’d realized she’d been buried by the snow, trying to use the Force to figure out which way was up, and then squirming and trying to not breathe in the snow until she’d felt a hand grab her arm and yank her free. She was just lucky her attempt to Force-push Theron clear of the worst of the snow had apparently worked well enough. “You did, and we’re both here and reasonably okay now, and I’m just glad you’re not hurt more than you already are.”

“Frostbite and bruises -- it could be worse.” Theron tilted his head to kiss her cheek again. “There should be kolto around here to treat those if we ever get out of this tub. Are you sure you’re not hurt otherwise?”

Xaja started to shake her head, then squealed as Theron shifted his own head against her in such a way that his left temple pressed into her cheek. “Gah! Theron, your implants are _freezing!_ ”

“Oops.” Theron grinned into her neck. “Maybe I’ll just stay here until they warm up properly-”

Xaja sighed in playful frustration and promptly pushed Theron’s grinning face under the water.


	10. Late Night Work

At this hour on the Odessen base (11:17 PM, local time), most of the Alliance personnel had retired for the night, save for the crews on the night shift. One walking through the base’s subterranean corridors might have noticed signs of life come from Commander Taerich’s quarters, and might have assumed that the pretty former Jedi was busy with her spymaster (honestly, their relationship was the worst-kept secret in Wild Space).

The two humans on the couch in her quarters _were_ busy, just not in the way that one might have thought.

Xaja squirmed a bit on the couch as she set down her empty cup of tea and got comfortable again, picking up another datapad. “And these are all the reported sightings of Arcann and Senya? Are you sure these aren’t, y’know, inventory lists or stolen reports from the Senate or something?”

Theron shook his head. “Nope. Lana and I skimmed through these earlier -- it’s all connected to Senya or Arcann. The challenge is figuring out which of these is actually legitimate and who’s just hoping for an Alliance favour.”

“Lovely.” Xaja wrinkled her nose. “I don’t know how you two, and my dad, can sort through this every day and not go completely mad.”

“A growing dependency on caf and the odd brain-break with a pretty redhead.” Theron winked and kissed her cheek. “… I may or may not have bullied one or both of your brothers into helping once or twice.”

That got a laugh out of Xaja. “You bullied Sorand, the high-and-mighty Darth Imperius, into doing something? I’m rather impressed, Agent Shan.”

“I have my moments.” Theron grinned. “Getting Shara involved helped too.”

“That would do it. I think she’s the only person he’ll bend over backwards for.” Xaja smiled fondly at the thought of her brother and his Mandalorian wife, then looked back at her datapad and sighed. “And this is what’s left after they’ve gone through this?”

“Yep.” Theron stretched before settling back in with a new sheaf of flimsi. “Are you sure you want to be doing this? You look exhausted.”

There wasn’t any point in telling Theron about the nightmares she’d been having since Valkorion returned to her head -- or rather, re-announced himself as having been there the whole time. Xaja shook her head. “I’m fine, Theron. And I don’t want you to have to get through all this by yourself. You’re not getting enough rest as it is.”

“I can’t say I don’t appreciate the help.” Theron pressed another kiss into Xaja’s hair. “If you do give up and go to bed, I won’t be offended.”

“But then I’ll feel bad for leaving you with more work.” Xaja curled up and leaned into Theron’s shoulder. “I’ll stick it out with you.”

“Thanks.” Theron rested his cheek against the top of her head as he started filing through his notes. Xaja comfortably snuggled up against him and started going through the intel reports on the datapad, highlighting anything that looked useful. Lana or Reanden would look through the detailed reports the next day.

For several long minutes there was near-silence in the room, broken only by the sounds of their breathing and the occasional rustling of flimsi as Theron shuffled through sheets of data. Xaja was too stubborn to admit just how overtired she was (because if it wasn’t Valkorion and his nightmares keeping her from sleep, it was some new crisis on the base or a mission or her and Theron’s less-than-restful activities… okay, she couldn’t complain about the last one), but still felt her eyes growing heavy. The late hour and her very comfortable position and Theron’s steady breathing were doing nothing for her ability to concentrate on the lines of intel, and she had to reread a couple of paragraphs to make sure they actually made sense.

“You sure you don’t need to sleep?” Theron suddenly asked, and Xaja realized her eyes had drifted shut.

“Nope. I’m fine.” Xaja tilted her head back and pointedly blinked at Theron, as though to emphasize that her eyes were in fact quite open, thank you very much. “Just needed to rest my eyes for a minute.”

“Uh-huh. And add in a snore for good effect?”

“Excuse me, I do _not_ snore.” Xaja frowned up at Theron’s smirk and looked back at her datapad, then paused. “… _Do_ I?”

“Only when you’re exhausted.” Theron shifted so he could wrap his arm around Xaja’s slim shoulders. “You still okay?”

“Yeah. You’re comfy.” Xaja smiled as Theron tightened his arm in an affectionate squeeze. 

“So are you.” Xaja didn’t need to look up to hear the affectionate smile in Theron’s voice. Silence descended again for several minutes, most of which Xaja spent blinking, trying to focus on the words on her datapad, and trying to not let Theron catch on to how tired she was.

She knew she’d failed when she felt him set down his flimsi pages and gently guide her head down from his shoulder to rest on his lap. “You’re a terrible liar,” he softly murmured, stroking his fingers through her hair as he picked up her datapad with his free hand to start flicking through it. Xaja almost opened her mouth to grumble something at him, but she was so comfortable, and protesting would have involved dragging herself back to wakefulness…

* * *

Theron sighed as Xaja’s breathing slowed and her usually-tense muscles finally relaxed fully. _You don’t get nearly enough rest,_ he thought down at the Jedi using his lap for a pillow. He knew about the nightmares she’d suffered ever since Valkorion returned to her head, and hated how she tried to act like she was still okay, even to him. If all he could do to make her life less stressful was hold her against him while the kriffing Force-damned demon tormented her, then he’d do it, but he dearly wished there was more he could do for her.

Stretching his back out as best he could without disturbing Xaja, he settled back down to keep reading. _Sheesh, no wonder she fell asleep reading this. Was this one written by someone in the Senate for real?_ He lowered the datapad and closed his eyes for five minutes, just to give them a break from staring at the screen.

When he opened them again, it was 06:37 in the morning and he had an awful crick in his neck, and Xaja was still peacefully out cold on his lap, his thigh was tingling from having her head resting on it for so long. _Whoops._


	11. Untitled

The sound of slow, steady beeping was what roused her back to consciousness. Xaja frowned and turned her head to try and escape the persistent nuisance, but that just made her brain hurt as it jostled around in her skull. Her nose twitched as the scent of kolto and antiseptic assaulted her senses. _Great. How did I end up in medical this time?_

She cracked an eye open, whined slightly at the bright light that attacked her sensitive eyeballs, and closed it again. There was the sensation of someone taking her hand and gently rubbing a thumb over her knuckles. “Xaja? You with me?” That was Theron’s voice, low and gentle and worried-sounding. “Come on, sweetheart, open your eyes for me.”

Theron didn’t use a lot of pet names unless he was really worried. Xaja forced one eye open again and squinted up at the red-and-brown mass blocking out some of the light over her. “Theron?” She groaned and closed her eye again. “’s too bright.”

“Hang on a sec.” Theron let go of her hand for a few seconds, and Xaja heard him fumbling with something on a panel over her head. “Okay, that should be better for you now.” He took her hand again. “Can you look at me now?”

Xaja pried first one eye open, then the other when she saw that the light was indeed mercifully dimmer. “Thanks.” Her gaze drifted around the medical bay for a second, then returned to Theron’s face. “What happened?”

“You fainted… straight into my arms.” Theron forced a smile as though to hide his concern. “You know, if you wanted my attention you didn’t have to go to such extremes.”

“I should have just flashed you.” Xaja smirked as Theron chuckled. She started to sit up, but froze and hissed as her ribs flared uncomfortably. “Oww.”

“Easy, easy.” Theron’s hand slid under her back, helping her sit up. “You broke a few ribs and gave yourself a hell of a concussion, not to mention the shrapnel wounds. Remember how?”

Xaja leaned into Theron’s arm as she tried to think back. “Ummm… Lana and I were investigating a Knight training facility?…”

“Yep.”

“… And there were a ton of Skytroopers, including some of those gigantic monster ones…”

“Yep.”

“… and one of us accidentally made one of the droids explode and it set off a chain reaction?…”

“And which one of you do you think that was?”

“… I can’t actually remember. It’s all kinda blurry after that.”

Theron sighed. “Lana swears up and down it was you, and of course you caught the brunt of the shockwave from that explosion. You were still mostly-conscious when you two dragged yourselves back to the base camp, and you might have told Kaliyo to bite you when she laughed at you, and then you fainted right in my arms after saying you didn’t feel so good.”

“My hero.” Xaja smiled and squeezed Theron’s hand. “What would I do without you?”

“Land in a more-painful heap on the ground and probably break even more of your ribs.” Theron sighed again, although there was a note of affection in the gesture as he leaned down and kissed her forehead. “You are going to be the reason I have a heart attack one day.”

“Sorry.” Ignoring the way the motion made her head spin, Xaja snuggled into Theron’s shoulder and caught hold of his shirt in her hand to keep him right there. “But you always catch me.”

“I do my best.” Theron smiled and stroked his hand through her hair. “I’ll always try.”

“I know.” Xaja sighed in contentment, then winced as it jostled her ribs again. “Ow.”

“Okay, maybe try not doing anything besides laying there and not injuring yourself more? For my sake as much as yours?”

“Fiiiiine.”


	12. A Fond Farewell

If Theron Shan had been a reasonable, logical individual, he would have made sure to leave on his reconnaissance mission to Onderon in a timely manner. The planet was a few days away in hyperspace, after all.

However, nobody had ever accused Theron of being reasonable or logical, especially not where a petite redhaired Jedi Master was concerned. 

“You should probably go, before Lana comes to yell at you for being late,” Xaja murmured against Theron’s lips as she adjusted her hold on the lapels of his jacket to make sure he couldn’t tear himself away, even if he’d wanted to. 

“Yeah, probably.” Theron gently pushed Xaja’s mouth up to meet his again in another long kiss that stirred all kinds of feelings in his lower abdomen. “Sure I can’t steal you away from your thing on Takodana while I’m on Onderon?”

“I wish.” Xaja slid her hands up to wrap around the back of Theron’s neck. Her fingers started playing with the fine hair just at his nape, making him shiver. “Three weeks has never felt so long before.”

“Mmm.” Theron lowered his head to nuzzle her neck. “Please try and stay out of trouble for me?”

“Believe it or not, I don’t actually go looking for trouble.” Xaja softly sighed when Theron’s lips found her pulse point and shivered in his hold. “Except for this sort of trouble when you’re around…”

Theron smirked against her skin and started trailing his lips up over her jaw and cheek. “Yeah, but it seems to find you way too easily, more when I’m not there to protect you.” He claimed her willing lips with his again for another long moment. “Seriously, stay safe for me.”

“Lana and Korin will be with me the entire time. What could go wrong?”

“Don’t say that, otherwise something will go wrong!”

“Sorry.” Xaja pulled Theron’s mouth back down to hers. “I’ll be careful if you will be.”

“Done,” Theron mumbled into her mouth. “Koth and I will do our best to stay safe.”

“Good. Three weeks will be even longer if I have to fret about you being hurt.” Xaja kissed him again, her teeth lightly dragging over his lower lip just enough to make him groan and feel a surge of heat down south. “But really, Lana’s going to be by soon enough to yell at you for being late, and me for making you late…”

Theron smirked against her lips and ran his hand over her hip, getting in a squeeze and feeling her press up against him tighter. “I’m going to be without you, on comms blackout, for three kriffing weeks and worrying about you every minute of it. Lana can wait five minutes.” 

Xaja smiled and stretched up to kiss him again, hot and deeply and with a soft sound in her throat that made Theron want to pin her against the wall just behind her and tear every stitch of clothing off of her. “I’m going to miss you.”

“I’ll miss you too.” Theron gently pushed her the two steps backward to the wall and stooped to kiss her again, long and thoroughly, already reaching for her belt buckle. “Should I show you just how much?”

“If Lana comes by to yell at us-”

“Five minutes.”

It was twenty minutes later before Lana finally lost her patience and came by to irritably pound on their door.


	13. Untitled 2

_I think I’m starting to understand why Theron’s always complaining about a sore back._ Xaja shifted uncomfortably in the hard chair she occupied and tried to focus again on her datapad. No matter what catastrophes the Alliance Commander faced, there was always work that needed her attention relating to the Alliance, the base, and the ongoing war with Arcann, and it wasn’t fair (or even possible half the time) to delegate her tasks to the rest of the command staff.

With a grunt, the small Jedi drew one foot up and underneath her, a position that would have been comfortable in literally any other chair besides this one. Blinking her heavy, dry eyes, she flicked to the next message on her datapad and pursed her lips as she read Torian’s message. _Of course the son of a bitch -- no offense to Senya -- is retaliating for Darvannis on civilian worlds. What else would he be doing?_ She thought something very angry and not-Jedi-like at the void in her mind where Valkorion had, until recently, occupied space in her brain, and typed in an acknowledgement to Torian. _I’ll have to talk to Lana about arranging for rescue or aid missions. Maybe we can bring some of the survivors into the Alliance. We’ll probably have enough volunteers who’ll want revenge against Zakuul…_

She sent the note and flicked to the next message, but found her gaze drifting away from the screen to the bed she sat beside and its one occupant. Theron looked too pale and still after his immersion in the kolto tank, even with Sorand Force-healing him as best he could while under fire (and the former Sith was still grumbling about the blaster shot he’d taken to his shoulder in the process). His injuries were significant, but he looked like he would survive.

That didn’t stop Xaja from reaching a hand out to grasp Theron’s fingers, limp and unresponsive on the blanket. _What were you thinking?_

* * *

Theron had been running around like a mynock out of hell for months now, between finding new recruits for the Alliance and hunting for any way to cripple Zakuul or the Fleet or their two chaotic rulers. His last visit anywhere from Odessen had ended with him and Xaja having to flee off-world from Denon in a hurry while getting shot at (and she’d nearly gotten herself killed while deflecting the blaster shots away from Theron while he’d been securing their escape route to his nondescript shuttle). She blamed the injuries she’d suffered from that as the biggest reason why Theron had insisted on leaving her behind when he went to investigate a new recruitment cell on Balmorra. That argument, which had lasted for the better part of twenty minutes, at perhaps a slightly louder than volume than necessary, had been resolved by Sorand breaking into the ‘discussion’ to volunteer himself to go with Theron, because a Sith might open more doors than a Jedi. “Because let’s be honest, sister: I can out-scary you on the best of days.” And then he’d made lightning dance around his fingers just to show off.

Shara had also volunteered to go along with her husband and Theron, and nobody bothered denying the bounty hunter any time with Sorand. It was only with the Sith and Mandalorian both assuring Xaja that they’d keep Theron (who Shara had cheerfully dubbed the Disaster Spy Princess and earned a murderous glare from the walking disaster in question) in one piece that the Jedi had backed down and given in.

She’d still taken a long moment to hug Theron before he’d boarded the shuttle with his travelling companions. “Be safe for me, love.”

“It’s not dangerous. I’ll be fine.” Theron had kissed her forehead reassuringly. “What could go wrong?” He’d left with a quick parting kiss to her lips and a promise to return as soon as he could, and then the three of them had taken off, leaving Xaja to worriedly follow the dot that was the shuttle with her eyes until they broke atmosphere and disappeared.

Four days later, Odessen received a call from a frazzled-looking Shara. “So, d’ya want the bad news or the worse news first?”

Xaja had felt herself go pale at the words, never minding her father standing beside her supportively. “No good news?”

“Uhh… we’re all alive?” Shara shrugged, then winced. “Ish? That lead was a trap, by the by. ‘s a good thing ya didn’t come for the ride, _jetii_. They were gunnin’ for ya more than those _hut’uuns_ on Bandomeer.”

“… What do you mean, alive-ish?” Lana had demanded.

“…. _Sor’ika!”_ Shara had yelled off-camera. Presumably Sorand was within shouting distance. “How bad’s it?”

“I still can’t move my _shabla_ arm and Theron’s still out! Where the hell’s the kolto in this damned ship?”

Shara looked back at the camera and apologetically smiled. “Uhh… ya might wanna have a medical team ready to go when we land. Spyboy here nearly blew himself up tryin’ to give us time t’ get back offworld. He’s still breathin’ an’ we’ll do our damn best to make sure he stays that way --” The sound of an alarm on her end of the call jerked her attention away. “Oh, for kriff’s sake! Proximity alarm, gotta run. I’ll let you know when we’re in the system, shouldn’t be more ‘n a couple of hours.” The call disconnected, and Xaja felt herself being guided into a chair as the blood drained from her face. _Theron did what?!_

* * *

She was roused from her light doze by the feeling of movement under her fingers. When her eyes fluttered open, she saw Theron squinting at the ceiling as though trying to figure out where he was and what he’d done this time. “Welcome back,” she quietly said, running her thumb over his hand.

Theron’s gaze shifted to her, and a small smile appeared on his lips. “Hey.” He tried to sit up, then winced as that jostled the burns and lacerations across his torso. “Ow.”

“Easy, don’t try to sit up.” Xaja gently rested her other hand on Theron’s shoulder. “Do you remember what happened?” She’d gotten the story from Shara (because Sorand was still grumpy enough from the indignity of getting shot, never minding that he’d grabbed one of Theron’s blasters to return fire and proved to have the better aim. He got even more grumpy when Koth had asked when the hell one of the Dark Council learned how to shoot a blaster.), but wanted to know if Theron recalled what had happened.

Theron looked down at his blanket-covered body, then cringed. “Yeah.” He sheepishly looked up at Xaja. “So, I’m an idiot.”

“Yes, you are.” Xaja leaned down and kissed his forehead. “But you’re my idiot.”

That got a smile out of Theron that looked downright sappy. Xaja suspected that if he ever saw a holoimage of his facial expression at the moment, he’d blame it on the painkillers. “Love you too. Stay?”

“Of course.” Xaja smiled and brought his hand up to gently kiss his scraped-up knuckles. “I’m not going anywhere.”


	14. Fights and Makeups

The _Gravestone_ rumbled as it lurched into hyperspace while still halfway through Iokath’s outer ‘atmosphere’, just escaping the range of ARIES’ weapon. Lana slumped in her chair on the bridge as the ship raced home to Odessen, resting her forehead in her hands in an uncharacteristic demonstration of relief. Given the nightmare they had just escaped, she reasoned that she could get away with dropping her stoic mask for now.

“Let’s never do that again.” Koth sat back from the control panel of the _Gravestone_ and ran his hands over his face. “I think that’s enough adventure right there to last me the rest of this war.”

“As the self-appointed adrenaline junkie in this pack of misfits, I agree.” Korin nodded emphatically. “Can our next run out to somewhere be to somewhere with beaches and sunshine and -- Theron? Where are you going?”

“I need a word with the Commander,” Theron growled out as he palmed open the door and strode out of the bridge. Lana didn’t need to prod deeply with the Force to sense the anger swirling around him. 

Koth craned his head around the chair to watch Theron’s back disappear past the door, then gave Korin and Lana a worried look. “How mad is he if he’s calling her ‘Commander’ and not her name?”

“Very.” Korin stood up. “D’ya think I should go after them until he’s cooled down an’ is all less upset with her?”

“I’ll talk to him. You’re almost as likely to start arguing with your sister as he is right now.” Lana quickly got to her feet and hurried toward the door. Theron had already vanished, but the cloud of anger that was him wasn’t difficult to track. Neither was the glimmer of bright (yet strangely shadowed) light that was Xaja Taerich… who seemed to be much closer to Theron than Lana was. _Damn it!_ “I’ll be back soon.”

* * *

She met Vette and Torian not far from where she could sense Theron and Xaja, and the looks of tense apprehension on both faces did nothing to ease her worry. “Did something happen?”

“Not yet, but I’ve never seen Theron that angry.” Torian glanced over his shoulder. “Wouldn’t want to get in the middle of that --”

“What the _hell_ were you thinking?!” The furious shout echoed down the corridor, making all three eavesdroppers wince. Lana had only heard Theron yell like that once before, and oddly enough, she was more worried now when she wasn’t the target of said shouting (they’d had a long fight over Ziost and Master Surro not long after pairing up to rescue Xaja from Zakuul, but that wasn’t relevant at the moment).

“Blast it. I’ll go and try to talk them down.” The Sith quickened her pace as Torian and Vette made their escapes, then flinched when she heard Xaja snap something back at Theron, the words too quiet to make out, but the defensive, angry tone was very clear.

“Do you have _any_ idea how blasted selfish that was?! You could have died down there, you and Vette and Torian, and I couldn’t do a damn thing about it!”

“I was doing my kriffing job and keeping the majority of you alive and with the _Gravestone!_ ” Lana came around the corner and quickly ducked into an alcove when she saw the pair shouting at each other in the otherwise-deserted corridor. Probably best to not interfere right now, not with Theron practically looming over Xaja (being a full standard foot taller than one’s girlfriend and commanding officer had some benefits), and Xaja pulling the I-am-the-Commander-and-you-will-listen-to-me stance, complete with a masterful glare at Theron. Not that it was working well right now for her.

“And what part of that involved sacrificing yourself? Are you _trying_ to get yourself killed?!”

“It’s not your job to protect me, Theron!” Xaja took a step forward, seemingly ignoring how she had to crane her neck up to continue glaring at Theron. “I will do whatever I need to do to make sure this Alliance survives and does what it needs.”

“You still haven’t told me how ensuring the survival of the Alliance involves trying to give me an order to leave you behind to die!” 

“If it meant that you and the _Gravestone_ both made it out of here alive, I’d make that call again!”

“And I would still ignore it! You do _not_ give me that order!”

“Excuse me, when did you start telling me what orders I can and cannot give?”

“If you honestly thought I would follow that order to leave you behind-!”

“I gave that order to keep you alive and keep the Alliance-”

 _“I can’t lose you again!”_ Their voices, which had been steadily increasing in volume over the course of the argument, finally culminated in Theron shouting loudly enough to make Xaja step back instinctively. He stepped with her, and Lana almost ran out of her alcove when she saw him grab the Jedi’s shoulders and hold her in a deathgrip. Xaja’s hands flew up to Theron’s chest, but didn’t make an effort to push him away in earnest.

There was silence for a moment, broken by the echo of Theron’s shout fading, before the spy spoke again. His voice dropped from loud and passionately angry to broken and saddened. “I lost you already, and it broke me then. Your brother can tell you how bad I took your death the first time. If you made me leave you behind to die like that…”

“And what makes you think I’d let you endanger yourself for me?” Xaja moved one of her hands to touch Theron’s cheek. “Theron, I love you. If you were hurt or killed trying to save me from something…”

“Then I’d die knowing you were safe.”

“And where would that leave me?”

“Feeling roughly similar to how I feel now, dammit.” Theron stepped closer to Xaja, his hands moving to cradle her face in his hold. “I don’t care what disasters you feel like you need to prevent or who you’re fighting against or whatever other nightmare scenario you’re in, Xaja -- you do not _ever_ give me that order to leave you behind.”

“Theron-”

“Promise me.”

Xaja seemed to look down and away from Theron’s gaze despite his hold on her. “I won’t make a promise I can’t keep, Theron,” she finally whispered, her tone hinting at tears she hadn’t shed. “If my death saves you, and the rest of the galaxy, it’s worth it.” Lana abruptly felt like she was intruding on a very private moment and started turning to quietly leave, but lingered to make sure everything was settling.

“It’s not worth it for me. You’re all I have.” Theron rested his forehead against Xaja’s and closed his eyes. “I went for five years without you, and the only thing that kept me going was the knowledge that you weren’t dead and we were finding a way to get you free. If I lose you again, but permanently…”

“Theron, there is no death, only-”

“-- the Force, which I can’t sense anyway. Not applicable.” Theron opened his eyes again to look at Xaja. “I swore I’m never going to lose you again. Don’t you get what letting you die would do to me?”

There was another moment of silence before Xaja tightly wrapped her arms around Theron’s neck and pulled herself up to hug him like her life depended on it, letting Theron cling back to her. “I’m sorry, Theron,” she murmured, softly enough that Lana almost couldn’t hear it.

“I’m sorry too. I shouldn’t have yelled at you like that.” Theron tilted his head enough to bury his face in Xaja’s tangled hair. “Just… please, don’t ever give me that order again. I can’t handle it.”

“I’ll try,” Xaja finally whispered as she hid her face in the crook of Theron’s neck. “I can promise that much.”

Lana couldn’t hear Theron’s response to that, but saw his head move in a nod against Xaja’s hair and finally decided all was well enough for her to leave the couple in peace. She’d still give Xaja her own chewing-out for that damned order later… but right now, it appeared the self-sacrificing idiot of a Jedi needed her equally-idiotic spy lover as much as Theron needed her.


	15. Craving

If Xaja had known that pregnancy was going to feel like this, she probably would have been a bit more paranoid about making sure that implant she’d had was still functioning properly. Apparently the five years in carbonite, while it hadn’t aged her, had rendered the device useless. She was just surprised she hadn’t gotten pregnant sooner.

 _And there’s still another four months left of this,_ she grumbled to herself as she gingerly walked through the cantina and armour repair stations in the main portion of the base. With the war being officially over (despite the rumours of uprisings and rebellion against the Alliance in some regions of space, which she’d sent Korin and Torian to deal with in her stead), she and Theron had moved their quarters from the subterranean room by Hylo’s base into the above-ground saucer with the rest of the command crew, leaving the old room as a hideout bunker. Sunshine and fresh non-recycled air did wonders for Xaja’s stress levels -- and apparently such things were good for the baby in her womb too.

She still wasn’t sure how morning sickness was supposed to benefit the baby, or her ridiculous food cravings. Senya had just laughed when Xaja had complained, which the former Jedi decided was not a positive sign. And her dad had just patted her shoulder in passing, which also wasn’t a hopeful sign (especially not with that smirk).

 _The good news,_ she decided as she made her way down the hallway, pausing to greet two Alliance officers who saluted when they saw her, _is that the kid’s finally decided it doesn’t need a ridiculous amount of crunchy cheesy foods._ Theron should be happy to know that his kid apparently wasn’t going to require its father to go finding such foods at two in the morning for the time being for its mother.

The bad news was that the kid had apparently decided its mother needed sweet and spicy. At once. She was reasonably sure muja fruit and spice peppers weren’t supposed to be a good combination, and she could only imagine Theron’s horrified look when she ‘fessed up to this craving. But right now, it sounded like the best thing in the world. She palmed open the door to her and Theron's quarters, already planning on finding the muja fruit she knew was still available in the small kitchen unit as of this morning and stealing a couple of the spice peppers from Theron’s side of the cooler unit.

That plan went out the window when she saw Theron leaning against the counter, muja fruit in one hand and datapad in the other. “Dammit,” Xaja said as she let herself into the apartment unit, making Theron look up inquisitively mid-bite. “I was gonna eat that.”

Theron’s eyes darted down at the half-eaten fruit in his hand, then back at Xaja as he sheepishly extended his hand and swallowed the bite in his mouth. “Sorry? Wait, I thought you were craving cheese.”

“Your kid can’t make up its mind.” Xaja rubbed her hand against her sore lower back as she gently shook her head and pushed the fruit back at Theron. “Don’t worry about it, I’ll find something else. That wasn’t the last one, was it?”

“Uhhhh….” Theron looked even more sheepish. “… I’ll just get See-Two to find more. Anything else you and the squirt want while I’m at it?”

“Umm…” Xaja glanced at the cooler, then back at Theron. “Spice peppers?”

“… Please tell me that’s separate from the muja.”

“… Hey, it’s _your_ kid, dear!” Xaja sighed at Theron’s expression, which looked to be equal parts disgusted and horrified. “It can’t be that bad. Dad was telling me about some of my mother’s cravings…”

“How bad were those?”

“There was apparently a month when she couldn't eat anything except charbote. Very well done charbote.”

“…. Muja and spice peppers. Oookay. I’m on it.”


	16. Warmth

Odessen was a pretty temperate world, but it still had a noticeable winter season. It didn’t snow on the continent that housed the Alliance base, although Torian said there was snow towards the polar caps, but it had been raining steadily for the last few days, and brought a hell of a cold front with it.

Xaja shivered as she walked through the subterranean passages of the command rooms. While being underground was more secure, and a boon in the summertime, right now the entire area was cold and drafty. Dr. Oggurobb’s lab and Hylo’s base were the only rooms that had any decent heat within them, and that was mostly because the Hutt complained about the cold mucking about with his experiments (and nobody wanted to listen to him drone on and on) and Hylo’s smugglers had wired in some way to heat up their base more effectively. Xaja would have loved to stay with Hylo’s crew and get some feeling back into her fingers, but Sana-Rae had requested her in the Force Enclave, and the Jedi felt obligated to visit the Voss. At least the ‘saber drills she’d wound up doing with some of the trainees had warmed her up a bit.

Of course, now that she was sweating and no longer sparring against Xalek, she was absolutely freezing. _Should have grabbed a robe instead,_ she silently groused as she tugged her coat tighter around her slim shoulders. _Why must everything be right on the other side of the giant drafty cold-as-Hoth command room?…_ The reminder that Theron had been gone for over a week on a recon mission in the Mid-Rim only served to dampen her spirits even more than the cold. She didn’t really care that his absence meant she wasn’t fighting anyone for the blankets on the bed right now -- she missed her human heating pad.

 _Ugh. Nothing for it._ Bracing her shoulders against the cold drafts blowing in from the military hangar (along with all the grumbling of Bey’wan’s troops who’d been stuck on duty today), Xaja stepped out into the wider cavern and promptly hissed at the unwelcome chill. _Next time Lana picks a location for a secret base, I’m going to suggest Rishi. Revan might have been insane, but he had the right idea there._ She hurried across the room to the hallway connected to her room and Hylo’s base, teeth chattering. _Or Tatooine. There’s something to be said for heat and sunshine…_

She collided with a tan-and-red mass and felt a pair of hands catch her arms before she could fall. “Not even a hello? I’m a little hurt.”

“Theron!” Xaja all but pounced into Theron’s arms properly, only half because he was _warm_. “You’re back early!”

“Yeah, Korin and I got things done faster than expected, figured I’d get back sooner and surprise you.” Theron kissed her hair. “Blast, you’re freezing, woman!”

“You’re warm.” Xaja’s fingers slid under Theron’s jacket to bask in the trapped heat under the leather and earned a hiss as she leeched the warmth from his back. “You can stay like this if you want…”

“Ordinarily, I’d love to, but not when you feel like you’re made out of ice!” Theron reached around to the rucksack he’d dropped when he and Xaja had collided. “But I got you a present- a damn conveniently-timed one too.”

“Oh?” Xaja tilted her head curiously at Theron. “You didn’t have to, love-”

“I know, but I wanted to.” Theron’s cheeks appeared to have something of a pink tinge. “Close your eyes for a sec.”

Xaja obediently shut her eyes and shivered in the cool air for a few seconds until she suddenly felt something wrapped around her shoulders. “Okay, you can look now.” Theron didn’t let go of her though, his hands resting on her shoulders and infrequently shifting to adjust the wrap he’d just covered her with.

“Theron, this is beautiful!” Xaja looked down to admire the wrap around her slim body- all mingled shades of green and blue, and when she rested her cheek against the material, it was one of the softest materials she’d ever felt in her life. And it was so blessedly warm. “I don’t know what to say!”

“It suits you.” Theron looked a little embarrassed, but he was smiling as he reached down to tug the wrap a little tighter around her. “It probably wouldn’t do much good on Hoth or Rhen Var, but it can’t hurt here, right?”

“I’m already feeling warmer, and not just because you’re back.” Xaja smiled and slipped her hand out of the wrappings to grab Theron’s fingers. “Thank you, Theron. I’ll treasure this.”

“Anytime.” Theron stooped to gently kiss her. “Let’s find Lana. The sooner I debrief both of you, the sooner I get a hot shower and a nap. You have much else planned for today?”

“I think I do now, and they all involve you.”

“Good, otherwise I was going to slice in and rearrange your schedule on you.” Theron winked and started walking with Xaja in the general direction of the labs, where Lana was probably arguing with Talos and Sorand about something Sith artifact-like in nature.

“Oh, the horrors.” Xaja grinned and sidled up into Theron’s side. The weather was still awful and the caverns still drafty and damp, but she felt warmer and happier already, and not just because of the warm, beautiful wrap covering her.


	17. Haunted

“Ugh, this is terrible.” Xaja propped her booted feet up on the caf table and frowned at the holoimages on the screen in front of her. 

“It’s a classic!” Theron shook his head and sipped from his bottle of Corellian ale. “The only reason the effects and acting are so bad is because the movie’s older than both of us!”

“Combined?”

“It’s not _that_ old.”

“Yeah, okay.” Xaja rolled her eyes and gestured to the screen again. “Listen, I don’t care if it’s forty years old. Holofilm makers really should have known what decent acting looks like. Look, you can totally tell that’s the murderer. He’s not even trying to hide it-- oh, no you idiot, don’t go into the dark basement alone…”

“This was groundbreaking for its time! This is the holofilm that set all the tropes for horror after it!” Theron grinned. “Besides, bet you can’t guess the ulterior motives-”

“He’s possessed by a sex-crazed Sith demon. When do they bring in the priest from some obscure Outer Rim religion to perform an exorcism?”

“… Quit ruining my favourite holo from when I was twenty.”

“… This answers a lot of questions my dad has about you…”

“Hey!”

“What? It’s true-- oh, annnd there she goes, overly dramatic screams and all.”

“Okay, I’ll give you that. People don’t scream like that when they’ve been stabbed like that. They can’t breathe enough to make that much noise.”

“I don’t know it’s more disturbing that you know that for a fact, or that I can confirm it…”

“Don’t we get along because we’re both--” The crash from the _Serenity_ ’s lower deck made both of them jump. Theron frowned and craned his neck to look down the corridor toward the stairs. “What was that?”

“Good question. Tee-Seven might have jostled something.” Xaja pried herself out from her comfortable position against Theron’s side and stood up. “Tee-Seven?”

The astromech (and currently the only other occupant of the ship) didn’t make any response to its master’s call. Theron frowned at the conspicuous silence. “That’s weird. Want me to go check it out?”

“I’ve got it.” Xaja shot Theron a smile as she meandered toward the stairs. “Not the first time he’s bumped something down there.”

“… You’re going into the lower levels of a ship to check out a suspicious noise, by yourself, without a weapon?” Theron groaned. “Weren’t you _just_ telling off the latest victim in this holo for that?”

“This isn’t a creepy deserted ruin, it’s my ship! The odds of there being a serial murderer on board range from poor to zero, and the only ghost here is confined to my brain.”

“… Just take a damn lightsaber with you, please?”

“Love, you know that was just a holo, right?…” Xaja rolled her eyes at Theron’s pleading look and Force-called one of her hilts to her belt. “Better?”

“Ish. If you’re not back up here in five minutes I’m coming down there.”

“Isn’t that _What Not To Do In A Horror Holo #2_? I’ll be right back.” Xaja turned the corner to the stairs and shook her head once she was out of Theron’s eyesight. “Honestly, so paranoid even without a horror holo playing…” The metal of the stair under her foot creaked, and the Jedi jumped, her heart racing. _Okay. You’re fine. That step always creaks a bit. There’s nothing down here. The holo’s just getting to you._ “Tee-Seven?”

The droid still didn’t answer. Xaja frowned and checked her armour maintenance room. Nothing there that looked to have been dislodged. A quick check in medbay confirmed the same thing. _What the hell fell down here?… And why are none of the lights on?_ The engine access room that the little astromech usually occupied was unusually dark, and Xaja adjusted her grip on her lightsaber hilt. _Just for light, not because I feel like I need to defend myself -- wait. That shadow moved._

There was a _snap-hiss_ as the pale blue blade ignited and lit up the room, including the one moving shape that scurried into the shadows. Xaja shrieked and jumped backward, the lightsaber falling out of her hands and deactivating to leave the room in darkness again. Over the crash of her back hitting the wall and her pulse racing in her ears, she heard a thud from above her, then the sound of running feet. “Xaja!” Another shadow appeared, then Theron materialized beside her, blaster drawn and eyes wide. “What the hell-- where --” He jumped when Xaja grabbed his arm, and for a terrifying second his blaster was trained on her before the spy recognized her. “Kriff, what happened?”

“Something _moved._ ” Xaja looked back in the direction of the moving shadow and pointed with the hand that wasn’t gripping Theron’s sleeve. 

“… Fierfek.” Theron aimed the blaster into the corner. “Why aren’t the lights working in here?”

“I have no idea.” Somehow she had the presence of mind to call her lightsaber back to her hand and shakily reactivated it. “Do you-- There!”

Theron squinted at the moving shadow, then sighed and lowered his blaster, looking up at the ceiling in frustration for several long seconds. “Xaja. It’s a kriffing _spider_. A big one, but still a bloody spider.”

“…. I knew that.” Xaja tried to will her voice into anything other than the high-pitched squeak the lingering adrenaline had changed it to. “Totally. Right. Spider. Can you kill it?”

“I am _not_ shooting into your ship’s engines to kill a damn spider. We’ll deal with it when we land on Odessen.” Theron frowned at the dead lights. “Must have blown out a circuit in here or something. We should find Tee-Seven and get him to--”

The second crash came from the bridge. Xaja didn’t need to make eye contact with Theron to know that the same fear that had resumed flooding through her veins was visible in his eyes. “What was that?”


	18. It Was A Good Idea At The Time

“Just breathe, okay? I’ve got you.”

“Oh, Force, this hurts worse than getting impaled…”

“Shhh. You’re okay, you’re gonna be okay. Help’s coming--”

Xaja groaned and tightened her grip on Theron’s wrist as the pain tore through her again in a wave. “Sweetheart…”

“Yes, love?” Theron kissed Xaja’s forehead and ran his free hand up and down her back in what he probably thought was a soothing manner. “I’m here.”

“… I really kriffing hate you right now. This is--” Xaja groaned again and buried her face into Theron’s shoulder as the pain crested again. “Ugh… this is all your fault.”

“You say I got us into this, but you didn’t stop it from happening, either.” Theron sounded a little bit petulant, but Xaja suspected it was mostly to hide the panic she could feel radiating from him in the Force.

“It felt like a good idea at the time,” Xaja finally muttered into Theron’s shoulder once the pain let up enough for her to breathe again. 

“I still maintain that it was.” Theron kissed her hair and gently rocked her in his hold. “You know everyone’s just surprised that this didn’t happen sooner?…”

“Something something will of the For-- agh!” Xaja groaned and doubled over as much as she could as the pain resurged in her abdomen. “Blast it!”

“Shhh. I’ve got you.” Theron sounded worried. “Damn it, where’s Senya?”

As if on cue, the door to their quarters slid open and the Zakuulan woman ran inside, breathing hard. She came to a halt in front of the couple kneeling on the floor and winced when she got a good view of the situation. “Oh, Commander, you’re in for a rough ride.”

Xaja hissed as she finally righted herself a little bit, still holding on to Theron’s hand with a deathgrip. “Oh, if I’d known this was going to happen…”

“It could be worse.” The corners of Senya’s pale blue eyes crinkled in a smile. “It could be _two_ for your first round. Be grateful it’s just one.”

Theron felt himself pale at the possibility, and took a moment to silently thank the Force and count himself and Xaja as very, very lucky. The pretty Commander didn’t seem to agree with that assessment, and took a second between contractions to glare at her husband. “Next time, _you_ can be the one to give birth to your kid.”

“… We didn’t want more than one kid anyway, right?”

“If we weren’t okay with having an only child before, we are-- AGH!”

“Shhh.” Senya knelt on Xaja’s other side and gently rubbed a hand over the redhead’s swollen belly. “Lana’s already gone ahead to warn medbay and get a hoverchair, and Koth is calling back your family. Let’s get you down there -- this baby’s coming fast.”

“How fast is fast?”

“Fast enough that your child might decide to make its arrival in a hallway instead of in medical.” It took Senya and Theron working together to get Xaja upright and on her feet, if still doubled over and holding onto her stomach. “And won’t that be a story you can tell it for the rest of its life--”

“Yeah, let’s not have that happen.” Theron managed to pick Xaja up despite her protruding belly and started hurrying out of their quarters, Senya right beside them. “For what it’s worth, sweetheart, I’m sorry I got you pregnant when neither of us were planning on it, and I’m sorry science hasn’t yet found a way to make the father give birth instead.”

“Apology accepted. I still hate you right now.”

“I love you too.”


	19. More Adoption

“I hear something.” 

“Hmm?” Theron glanced to the side as Xaja froze mid-step, tilting her head at the wrecked ship beside them. Hoth was forever an inhospitable world, made only worse by the constant pirate warfare and a recent intervention from the Eternal Empire. Now the two of them were scouting through part of the Starship Graveyard, searching for any tech that might help the Alliance (that hadn’t been already looted), or looking for any parts to repair their speeder. Theron wasn’t looking forward to the ever-looming certainty that they’d have to steal another ride off one of the pirate gangs.

“Something’s in there.” Xaja took a step toward the ruined ship. “We need to check it out.”

“The only thing I hear is wind and my teeth chattering,” Theron grumbled as he tried to take Xaja’s arm, and missed as she moved closer to the ship. “Xaja, it--”

“Theron, something’s in there.” The Jedi looked over her shoulder and frowned at Theron. “I can _feel_ it.”

“It’s probably some pirate scavenger who--”

“Not a pirate. It’s… small. And it’s hurt.” Xaja hurried around to the far side of the downed shuttle and dropped to one knee, squinting into the dim interior that she could see. “It… I think I see something.”

“Xaja. This is Hoth.” Theron sighed in exasperation as his girlfriend pointedly ignored him. “Even if it’s not a pirate, this planet’s full of wampas and icecats and wild tauntauns and hypothermia annnnd you’re not listening to a word I’m saying.” Really, she wasn’t -- somehow she’d found an opening big enough for her to slip into, and Theron just saw her bright hair disappear from sight. The spy groaned and crouched down beside the opening, wriggling his toes inside his boots to stay warm-ish. “Blasted _Jedi_ …”

“I heard that!” 

“ _Now_ you’re listening?” Theron frowned into the abyss that Xaja had vanished into. He could just hear her bootsteps moving around the inside of the ruined shuttle, seeking out whatever it was that she thought she’d heard. “While you’re at it, want to see if you can find a new repulsorlift down there?”

“Yeah, yeah.” Xaja sounded distracted. “Where are-- hey, it’s okay, little guy. Shhh.” That was a gentle, soothing coax that Theron didn’t think he’d ever heard her use before. “Hey, you’re gonna be just fine. Oh, what happened to you…”

Theron’s frown turned into one of confusion. “Xaja?”

She ignored him. “There, see? You’re okay, I’m not gonna hurt you. There we go, little guy…” Theron heard fabric rustling around the sound of Xaja’s soft words, then bootsteps walking around again. “There we go, everything’s okay, everything--” There was the sound of metal crashing and what sounded very distinctly like a five-foot-nothing redhead tripping over something and Xaja’s gentle tones vanished for a moment as Theron winced in sympathy. “Son of a _bitch!_ Aww, sorry, little guy. You’re okay, you’re okay. _Kriff_ , that hurt… Shhh, there we go, everything’s okay now, you-- oh, that looks useful-- you’re okay…” Her pretty face suddenly appeared below Theron, her coat looking distinctly bulkier than it had when she went down minutes earlier. “Think we might’ve fixed the speeder,” she said with a grin as she tossed up whatever she’d tripped over. “That look useful?”

Theron caught the metallic object and grinned when he recognized a salvaged repulsorlift. It wasn’t the same model as the one that had blown out on their vehicle, but he could make it work at least back to the Republic camp. “That’ll do nicely. Whatcha find down there besides bruises?”

“Gimme a hand up?” Xaja reached her arm up, the other hand supporting whatever she was carrying under her coat. 

Theron shook his head and reached down to grab her hand. “Was it worth it?” he asked with a grunt as he pulled her back up toward the open air.

“Saving a life is always worth it,” Xaja primly responded, for a second all proper Jedi Masterly, before she got back up to her knees and cooed down at whatever she was holding in her coat. “But look at ‘im! He’s just a baby!”

“Oh boy.” Theron sighed again as he craned his neck down, then blinked as a baby taunlet poked its head out of Xaja's coat and curiously looked around. “… Of course you found a baby tauntaun.”

“He was trapped down there and couldn’t get out!” Xaja gave the taunlet an earscritch and earned an affectionate headbutt to her fingers in response. “We can’t just leave him!”

Theron shook his head in fond exasperation as his Jedi love cooed down at her newest orphan furbaby, knowing that the taunlet most likely would be returning to Odessen with them. _At least it’s not a baby wampa_. It was a small price to pay to see Xaja so obviously happy about something so small and innocent (okay, and Theron guessed the taunlet was cute), and so pleased about saving a life on a small scale. “You Jedi, always trying to save the galaxy one life at a time,” he said as he kissed her hair. “Don’t you ever change. It’s adorable when you do it. Just… please don’t adopt a rancor next?”


	20. Illness

_I’m never doing a kriffing recruitment run again._ Theron groaned as he collapsed beside the toilet bowl, trying to will the ‘fresher to stop spinning around him. It really wasn’t helping the nausea. He still wasn’t sure what the hell he’d picked up on Arkania, and neither was Reanden, who’d been with him (and somehow, the old bastard hadn’t gotten sick at all. Life was not fair.). So far the older spy’s best diagnosis had been a flu from hell, and for once, Theron was inclined to agree with him.

His eyes suddenly widened in alarm and he hauled himself back upright as his stomach lurched, just in time for the bile to land inside the bowl and not on the floor, or himself. He was pretty sure this would have been less awful if he’d still had stomach contents to throw up -- as it was, the retching alone was making him miserable. He was tempted to give up and call Reanden to see if the older spy had anything for the nausea -- and the old Cipher had looked worried when he’d deposited Theron in his quarters. _Didn’t he make you promise to call if you had any probl--_

“Shh. I’ve got you.” A slim, feminine hand landed on Theron’s back and started gently rubbing it. The other hand appeared in front of Theron’s eyes with a glass of water. “Rinse your mouth out, you’ll probably feel a little better.”

With shaking hands, Theron accepted the glass and took a small mouthful, swishing the water around before spitting it into the bowl. The burn of bile still lingered in his throat, but it was a little better. “I’m a mess,” he mumbled as his arm blindly groped until it found Xaja’s shoulders, using her as a support.

“Shh. It’s okay. I’ve seen you worse off. At least you’re not bleeding in a thousand places.” Xaja stroked her fingers through Theron’s sweat-dampened hair and gently kissed his temple. “Do you think you can stand up so I can get you back to bed?”

“Mmm…” Theron thought for a moment before his stomach made the decision for him. He just barely felt Xaja get her hair out of dodge before the bile could have hit her beautiful red locks. “Sorry,” he whispered when he finally stopped retching and sagged against her.

“It’s not your fault.” Xaja gently guided the glass of water to his lips again until he’d rinsed his mouth out a couple of times, then wrapped both her arms around him and somehow got both herself and him upright (mostly). “C’mon, just a couple of steps and you’ll be in bed, okay? You can do this, Theron.”

In retrospect, Theron was never going to figure out how his five-foot-nothing girlfriend somehow got him from the ‘fresher into the bed without getting crushed under his weight. _Must be the Force,_ he drowsily thought to himself as he felt her deposit him on the bed, then carefully undo his belt and pull his shirt off over his head. There was the sensation of warm blankets being piled high on top of him, then a cool, damp cloth around his face. “Oh, you’ve got it bad,” Xaja murmured as she gently cleaned him up.

“Gonna… get you sick,” Theron protested around the lingering burn in his throat, cracking his eyes open to give Xaja a worried look.

“Jedi immune system, love.” Xaja gave Theron a small smile and gently kissed his forehead. “Even if that wasn’t a factor, I’m not leaving until you’re better.”

Forget his pride about being a stubborn, independent spy who could take care of himself. Theron grabbed Xaja’s other hand and clung to her. “Good. Don’t wanna be alone,” he mumbled.

“You won’t be. I promise.” Xaja started stroking Theron’s hair, and the motion sent him into a tailspin of drowsiness and near-sleep, disturbed only by the prick of a hypo into his arm that made his eyes crack open warily again.

“It’s just an anti-nauseant, son. Should help you sleep too.” Reanden’s voice sounded like it was coming from parsecs away. “I’m not that much of a jerk to poison you when you’re like this.” Theron’s eyes drifted closed again as the older spy patted his shoulder and said something else, probably to Xaja. “… only thing that helped your mom when she was sick… might help him too.”

“… not leaving him, Dad…”

“Didn’t think you would. Let me know if you…”

The last thing Theron felt before he’d faded into blissful, healing sleep was the mattress dipping behind him, a feminine body pressing against his back, and a strong yet gentle arm wrapping around him. “Sleep, Theron. I’ll be right here.” He softly smiled as he felt Xaja’s kiss in his hair and let himself drift away.


	21. Waiting Up

Three long weeks of running around the distant Outer Rim and dodging Zakuulan bounty hunters were finally done, and Theron was alive at the end of it all. He set the shuttle down neatly on his designated landing pad outside the Odessen base and powered down the engines. It was late, well after one in the morning local time. Theron stretched as he left the shuttle and tucked his datapad with his valuable data into his pocket. It would keep until he saw Lana or Reanden in the morning.

He lingered long enough in the military wing to be identified and welcomed back onto the base, then set off through the subterranean corridors. He was tired enough that the only two things he wanted were his pretty redhaired Jedi and a bed, but considering the late hour, the odds were that Xaja was already asleep. Hopefully she wasn’t sprawled over the entire mattress again - honestly, _how_ did somebody who barely capped out at five feet of height manage to take up an entire bed, and all the blankets? Theron had adapted, learning to curl himself around Xaja like she was a human pillow and steal back some of the blankets, but _still_ …

The lights were still on when he slid open the door for their shared quarters. “Xaja?” he lowly called into the room – then he saw the curled-up figure on the couch and felt his heart melt. Xaja seemed to have fallen asleep in the middle of reading; he could see a still-glowing datapad on the floor below her dangling fingers. She’d stolen one of his old tee-shirts again (how many did that make now? Four?), the garment practically swallowing her slim frame, and had curled up underneath a throw blanket that usually hung off the back of the couch, bare feet just poking out of the far end. The entire image was adorable and brought a lump to Theron’s throat and a warm, fuzzy feeling through his chest, one he knew even if he didn’t verbally name it.

The spy quietly shrugged his jacket off and placed it on the caf table as he knelt in front of Xaja, relocating her dropped datapad to the table before he could step on it. She didn’t stir, not until Theron leaned in and pressed light, soft kisses all across her forehead, her eyes, her cheek. “Hey,” he murmured as she turned her face toward him, and left more kisses on her nose, slowly trailing his way down to the corner of her mouth.

“… Theron?…” Xaja finally mumbled, her voice thick with sleep. Her lips brushed back against Theron’s, and he pressed a sweet, gentle kiss to her mouth before pulling back and watching her eyes slowly flutter open.

“I’m back.” Theron smiled and gently nuzzled his nose against hers. “Hopefully for a decent length of time.”

That earned a drowsy smile as Xaja slid her hand up Theron’s shoulder to hold him closer to her. “Welcome home,” she murmured as she gently kissed his mouth again.

 _Home._ Yes… no matter that Odessen was a rebel base in the middle of a war, no matter that the woman in Theron’s arms was Zakuul’s Most Wanted, this was the most _home_ Theron had ever felt in his life. The lump in his throat seemed to grow, and it took him a hard swallow and a couple of shaky breaths before he could speak again without his voice cracking. “Were you trying to wait up for me?” he whispered with a teasing smile.

“Mmm…” Xaja seemed a little embarrassed, but sleepily nodded anyway. “I missed you,” she murmured by way of explanation.

“I missed you too.” Theron smiled, feeling another burst of emotion that was all at once hot and melty and fuzzy and threatened to consume him entirely, a fate he would have gladly gone to. “You’re adorable.” He leaned in to kiss her again, then carefully slid his arms under her shoulders and knees and lifted her from the couch. She snuggled into his chest as he slowly carried her to their bed and gently deposited her in the blankets, then peeled his shirt off and sat on the edge of the mattress to remove his boots. “Why were you sleeping on the couch and not in the bed?” he softly asked.

Xaja burrowed under the blankets and watched Theron undress through drowsy green eyes. “The bed’s too big and cold,” she quietly admitted. “Felt lost in here without you.”

And just when Theron thought there was nothing new that Xaja could do to make his heart feel like it was going to explode within his chest, she went and did something like _this_. He paused long enough to kiss her forehead again, then finished removing his trousers and turned off the lights before sliding under the covers with her. The sheets did feel cool to the touch; he gladly sought out Xaja’s warm body and pulled her tightly against him. “Better now?”

“Mmhmm.” Xaja tangled her legs in with Theron’s and wrapped her arms around his waist. “Perfect.” She yawned and brushed another sleepy kiss against Theron’s shoulder. “Don’t leave again for that long…”

“I’ll try not to.” Theron kissed her hair and rolled just enough that he was on his back and she was partially on top of him. Seconds later, her breathing steadied out as she fell back asleep in his arms, warm and trusting and perfect. _What did I do to deserve you?_ he silently asked himself for the thousandth time as he nuzzled his face into her hair. Words he’d never had the courage to say while she was conscious to hear them filled his throat, straining to get out. Maybe one day, he’d be brave enough to shout them loud enough for the galaxy to hear.

But for now, as he cradled her in his arms and felt sleep creeping up over him, he whispered the words into her hair – maybe she’d hear them in her dreams. “I love you.”


	22. Desperate Sneaky Measures

The Alliance Commander and the Head of Alliance Operations and Intelligence didn’t argue often. But when they did, the shouting could be heard down the hallway of the base, or the Gravestone, or wherever they happened to be at the time.

At least this fight didn’t sound as bad as the shouting match they’d gotten into after escaping Iokath, Koth mused as he cautiously poked his head around the corner, counting himself as very fortunate that neither Xaja nor Theron noticed him. They were too focused on each other, glaring at the other in the narrow hallway. “You heard me, Shan,” Xaja was saying, her voice full of annoyance with her lover. “Take. It. Off.”

“Make me,” Theron retorted. “It’s my favourite!”

“Theron, there’s four blaster marks, at least a few knife cuts, one lightsaber cut, and did you get mauled by a nexu when I wasn’t looking?”

“Yes, and _this_ is why the mauling didn’t hit me directly! I can’t just throw it out after it sacrificed so much for me!”

“Theron, it’s a kriffing jacket.”

“And I’ve had this thing for longer than I’ve known you!”

“Exactly! It’s long past due time for it to be retired. I’m sure you can find another one somewhere.”

“You kidding? You know how hard it is to find this style of jacket or this shade of red?”

“Then maybe it’s a sign from the Force that you ought to consider a new look.”

“I don’t need a new look! My style is perfectly fine as it is!”

“What style are you going for? Homeless thug who pisses off lightsaber-carrying nexu?”

“I don’t -– it’s not that bad!”

“Turn around. Theron, I can practically fit my entire hand into this cut on the back of the damn jacket!”

“You have tiny hands!”

“So?! That’s not the point! Theron, if I can get my hand in there, what’s to stop another knife or a blaster bolt or, I dunno, a spider from getting in there?”

Theron apparently ran out of comebacks for that one. Koth carefully poked his head out again to watch as Xaja held her hand out, and Theron finally gave up. “Fine,” he muttered as he slowly removed the jacket and placed it on Xaja’s outstretched arm. “Just… promise me it’ll go with dignity? No trash bins or-–”

“Theron, I promise your jacket will not end up in a trash heap.” Xaja drew her arm back in, holding the ruined jacket against her stomach before Theron could potentially steal it back again. “You’ll thank me later when you’re wearing a new jacket that might actually protect you from things trying to kill you.” She reached up with her free hand and tugged Theron down for a light, chaste kiss. “Your baby has more than earned retirement.”

There was a heavy sigh before Theron nodded and started reluctantly trudging away to the quartermaster in Hylo’s bay of the base. Koth lingered for a moment when he noticed Xaja not moving yet – indeed, the pretty Commander didn’t move until Theron had turned the corner and was out of sight.

She took a quick look around her as though to make sure nobody was watching, then put the jacket on herself and beamed, clearly quite proud of herself. Koth nearly burst out laughing at the hilarious size difference – the jacket was clearly meant for someone at least a standard foot taller than Xaja and significantly wider in the shoulder than she was, not that she seemed to care. “And your retirement means I claim you,” she murmured, stroking the worn leatheris of the jacket as she merrily skipped back to her and Theron’s shared quarters, presumably to find somewhere secure for hiding it.

Koth bit down hard on his lip to keep his grin somewhat controlled as he resumed strolling along the corridor, and nearly lost it when he saw Theron standing still, just inside Hylo’s base of operations, staring at a datapad in shock. The Zakuulan had a sudden suspicion that the spy had accessed the security camera footage and realized the Commander’s ulterior motive. “Curse your sudden yet inevitable betrayal, woman,” he growled as he turned to march back out of the bay, all but ignoring Koth in his indignation. Apparently the Jacket Saga and Custody Argument was not over.


	23. Cuddles

Running around the entire bloody Outer Rim had some upsides, few and far between though they were. Those few upsides tended to be swiftly negated the moment someone else shooting blasters appeared in the picture. Add in a significant bounty on one’s head, two ship problems, one incorrect set of intel, and a catastrophic skirmish that ended with a stay in a medical outpost, and the entire three-week journey of traipsing through the galaxy was a complete disaster, never minding the scenery and few interesting people Xaja had experienced during the trip. Odessen had never felt so welcoming.

Xaja didn’t care that it was only mid-afternoon local time when the _Serenity_ finally touched down in her own personal clearing. She handed off her and Koth’s reports to Lana with a promise to expand on any details later, when she could think straight, and staggered off to her own quarters as her Zakuulan friend went to go crash in his own rooms. Her chamber was empty when she let herself in, and for a moment, she let herself be disappointed, even if she knew logically that Theron had to be busy elsewhere. 

She gingerly kicked off her boots, then shed her jacket and collapsed face-first on her bed, groaning in relief at the comforting, familiar sensation of the mattress underneath her. Exhaustion seemed to seep through her sore, weary muscles and bones (along with a good amount of discomfort from the half-healed blaster burn on her shoulder) as she all but melted into the mattress. _You should eat something before you pass out completely,_ she tried to reason with herself. _Maybe at least undress?_ But both of those suggestions required movement.

The mattress dipped as another weight settled on it, and Theron’s hand gently rubbed her back. “Welcome home,” he murmured as he kissed her hair. “You still awake?”

“Mmmph.” Xaja cracked an eye open to see Theron’s smile. “Hi.” She yawned and let her eye close again. “Sorry…”

“It’s okay. Koth mentioned it was a shit-show out there when I passed him in the corridor.” Theron’s hand drifted down her back to her belt. “Want me to get you out of these before you completely pass out? Might be more comfortable for you.”

It took Xaja a moment to realize Theron was talking about her torn-up, less-than-pristine clothes. She nodded and let Theron reach underneath her to find the fastenings for her garments with practised dexterity, the clothing tossed to the side once removed. Theron lowly hissed as he caught a glimpse of the blaster wound; Xaja felt his weight lift off the mattress, returning minutes later before the cold jolt of kolto on her skin woke her up slightly. “Sorry, sweetheart,” he murmured. “Almost done here.” He finished rubbing the kolto into the wound, then shifted his weight, as if putting away the medicinal gel. “Completely comatose yet?” he softly asked with a small chuckle as he returned to touch her arm again.

In response, Xaja grabbed his hand and pulled. Theron yelped as he fell completely beside her, his arm perfectly within range for Xaja to grab and cling to him with both hands. “Good now,” she mumbled with another yawn as she snuggled up against Theron’s warm body, feeling sleep take hold of her more firmly.

“You know I have stuff to do, right?” Theron’s protest was half-hearted at best as he tried to tug his arm free of his girlfriend’s grip. He finally sighed, giving up on freeing himself and settling in to cuddle Xaja with his free hand. “If Lana comes by and tells me off for slacking, I’m blaming you,” he muttered, without any real bite to his tone.

“Mmm.” Xaja just smiled as Theron started stroking her hair. Her familiar bed and her strong, comforting lover, and a well-deserved nap with both of them, were the best restoratives in the entire galaxy.


	24. Showering

The door hissed closed, and Xaja leaned against the table just inside the room, trying to will herself to not completely collapse into one of the inviting looking chairs. It would hardly do to insult the Voss by staining one of their elegant wooden chairs with the mud and blood and Force-only-knew-what covering her entire small frame right now. But holy kriff, she was exhausted.

To her right, Theron unclipped his gun belt and dropped it ungracefully on the table. He was every bit as filthy as Xaja was, and looked to be just as bone weary. At least she couldn’t see blood on him – well, not human blood, anyway. The rogue Gormak warriors who’d ambushed them hadn’t lived long enough to regret their life choices. “You okay?” he tiredly asked.

Xaja nodded and came around the table to rest her forehead against Theron’s shoulder as he shrugged his jacket off, barely pausing to frown at the new slash through the leather from a too-close vibroblade. “I could sleep for… maybe not another five years, but definitely a month,” she mumbled into his tee-shirt.

“I can deal with a month, as long as I’m with you.” Theron pressed a kiss into Xaja’s hair, seemingly ignoring the grime that had accumulated over two days of hiding and fighting and the one unfortunate incident with a cleverly-disguised mud hole. “Shower, food, sleep?”

“Preferably in that order,” Xaja agreed as she straightened up and tugged Theron down for a kiss on his cheek before making her way into the ‘fresher. Her weapons belt was off her hips and on the counter, and her outer robe being painfully shrugged off despite the sore muscles that ached everywhere, before she fully clued in to the large, inviting shower, more than big enough for herself and Theron together. “The Force doesn’t completely hate me,” she tiredly mused with a smile as she reached in to turn the water on; the smile vanished when she tried kneeling to unclip her boots. _Kriffing hell,_ she silently whined as she kicked her boots off, then started undoing the fastenings for her tunic. _Master Orgus would kick your ass for being this much of a wuss… and for walking into an ambush like that in the first place… and for getting thrown against how many boulders?… and for the manka cat incident…_

She tried to peel the tunic off, and hissed at the sudden sharp feeling of a burning pull. The feeling of the fabric being all but glued to her skin was too familiar – she groaned and tried to squirm out of the garment anyway before giving up. _He’s going to see it anyway_ … although the sight that greeted her when she twisted around to look in the ‘fresher’s mirror made her wince. He was going to have that heart attack he kept grumbling about. “Theron?” she called out, and hoped her spy boyfriend hadn’t fallen asleep already.

“Yeah?” There was the sound of a knuckle rapping against the door to the ‘fresher, then Theron entered the room. His hazel eyes darted over to the shower, and he smiled. “Oh, that’s the best thing I’ve seen in weeks. Big enough for two of us.”

“Pays to be friends with influential Voss,” Xaja agreed around a tight smile. “Promise me you won’t freak out.”

“Why am I promising to not – oh, for kriff’s sake!” Theron radiated shock and horror through the Force when Xaja turned her injured back to him. “I thought you said you weren’t badly hurt, dammit!” he exclaimed as he gingerly touched her back, pausing when the touch made her wince.

“‘Badly hurt’ is all relative. Compared to being impaled –”

“Not. Funny.” Theron leaned over to give Xaja a scowl before he started carefully working the blood-stained tunic off of the Jedi’s back, doing his best to ignore her pained hisses. “I didn’t know better, I’d say a manka cat used your back as a scratching post. How does this keeping happening to you?…” he mumbled around his work.

“The Force hates me?” Xaja yelped as the fabric came loose from a respectably-sized scab. “Exhibit number twelve, after the carbonite incident…”

“Or you’ve just got abysmally bad luck.” Theron muttered an apology as he tugged more of the shirt free from the scabs. “Almost done…”

“My luck’s not too bad,” Xaja finally hissed once the pain subsided a bit. “I have you, after all.”

Theron sighed, but Xaja could still sense affection bursting from him for a second before he kissed her cheek. It almost distracted her from the final scab being loosened and the tunic being pulled free. “Sorry,” the spy murmured as he threw the ruined tunic to the side. “Okay, into the shower with you. Are you sure you’re not hurt elsewhere?”

“… Maybe?” Xaja gingerly squirmed out of her trousers, and was pleased to see only bruises and scrapes on her skin. She carefully let herself into the shower and immediately groaned as the water stung at every single abrasion on her skin. “Oww.”

“I’m sorry.” Theron lingered on the other side of the tinted glass for a minute; Xaja heard the sound of clothing being shed before he came around the glass to join her, his tan skin liberally covered in bruises and cuts – painful though his wounds looked, he didn’t seem to be moving as gingerly as Xaja herself was. The spy winced as the water found his own injuries, but it didn’t stop him from pulling her against his chest and carefully cuddling her as the water streamed over both of them. She rested her head against his collarbone and focused on staying upright, content to just stay here with him where they were safe and warm and not in danger.

Eventually, she felt him move under her, one of his arms reaching for something behind her. She hissed into his skin when she felt a cloth gently dabbing at her terribly scraped-up back. “Oh, sweetheart,” Theron murmured soothingly into her hair as he carefully cleaned up the injuries. “I’ll get some kolto on this once we’re out of here.”

Xaja shifted against him, his heartbeat steady and reassuring under her ear as she wrapped her arms around his waist. “Are you sure you’re not hurt?” she murmured. “I tried to keep them off you, but…”

“Your job’s not to protect me. That’s mine.” Theron shook his head and kissed her forehead as he continued his gentle treatment. “I’ve got bruises, but I’m not as bad off as this.”

“Theron, I’m the Jedi out of us. Protecting other people is my entire bloody job description,” Xaja protested against his skin.

“And you’re also the Alliance Commander and Zakuul’s Most Wanted.” Theron pulled the cloth away to rinse it; Xaja saw red splash on the tile floor under their feet. Apparently she’d injured herself more than she’d thought. “For once, Xaja, let me do the protecting?”

“I’m not letting you get hurt on my account, Theron.” Xaja slipped one hand up over his chest to cradle his cheek, her thumb gently touching a nasty scrape below his eye. “This already…”

“Better me than you,” Theron murmured as he pressed his forehead against hers. Water droplets ran over his face, falling from his eyelashes to land on Xaja’s fair skin. “I’m not the one who’s vitally important to this Alliance.”

“You are to me.” Xaja stretched upward despite the strain on her injured back and tilted Theron’s face down to kiss her. “The Alliance needs you… but I need you more.”

Theron seemed to freeze for a second as though processing her words, before he stooped to kiss her again, hazel gaze softening. “Not half as much as I need you, Xaja…” he murmured as he pulled her to him again, seemingly content to simply hold her and remind himself that she was still here. She peacefully sighed and leaned into his chest, for a time able to forget about her wounds or her worry. As long as they had each other, the galaxy felt less cold and dark.


	25. "It Moved."

Theron was never going to be fond of Iokath. The creepy planet populated exclusively with homicidal droids was nightmare fodder enough- and then there was the stress of the Republic and Empire clashing over the resource-rich world. Not to mention the whole giant-superweapon somewhere on the planet that everyone was scrambling to get.

Xaja had at least nominally allied the Alliance and Zakuul with the Republic, but Theron suspected that his wife was planning on keeping the superweapon well out of his father’s hands. He was still inwardly snickering and facepalming every time he remembered Jace talking about his plans to bring the superweapon into Republic control and Xaja crossing her arms to glare at him. “Two words, Commander Malcom: ‘Planet Prison’.” That had been enough to shut Jace down and gift the small ex-Jedi with a scowl, which he’d transferred to Theron when the spy had smirked.

Sorand’s cheerful comment of “Oh, it really doesn’t matter if you support the Republic, Commander. Chances are, if the Republic’s security is as abysmal as it was when you were dealing with their last superweapons, the Empire’s going to probably have it within a week anyway.” earned an even darker glare from Jace, a stifled snort of laughter from Xaja, a facepalm from Theron, and a smug smirk from Acina (and a headslap from Lana as soon as the connections were closed). Xaja looking at the rest of her command crew, shrugging, and saying “Well, he’s not wrong” didn’t really help much, but Theron still found it amusing as hell (not that he’d ever admit it to his father).

But now he and Xaja were crawling around some Force-forsaking chamber deep within the bowels of the droid planet and one of its weapons factories. And really, Theron had disliked the planet anyway even before finding the throne with the mummified remains of some poor bastard still seated on it. “Why is it always thrones?” he complained as he followed Xaja into the cold room, glaring suspiciously at the shadows.

“Tell me about it. I never want to see a kriffing throne again.” Xaja sighed as she eyed the corpse. “It must have been one of Iokath’s original creators. Looks like it’s been dead for centuries.”

“Let’s hope it stays that way,” Theron muttered as he gave the corpse a suspicious look.

“Sweetheart, you’ve been watching too many horror holos with Korin and Koth.” Xaja didn’t take her eyes from the corpse. “Even after all this time, I can still feel the agony of its final moments.” She looked over at Theron, her eyes worried. “Something terrible happened here.”

“Thanks for the nightmare fodder,” Theron grumbled as he stepped away from Xaja’s side, spotting an access panel to the left of the throne. “Okay, buddy, let’s see what you know about these weapons,” he muttered as he started slicing in to the ancient systems. It took several long minutes before he finally smirked. “Jackpot,” he said as systems within the chamber activated, revealing the location of the weapons. “I’d say that’s enough firepower to give Acina a run for her money.”

“Fantastic.” Xaja looked away from where she’d been pacing in front of the corpse to give Theron a grin. “Download everything you can about these weapons. We need to know how to use them… and how to build more of them.”

“Give me one minute.” Theron shifted in his crouched position as he started slicing deeper into the files. Iokath’s data paths were so fascinating for a slicer like him, so foreign from anything else he’d ever come across. Even Zakuul’s datastreams felt like a different language compared to this. He might hate the planet, but he could spend hours in this slicer’s playground… when he wasn’t in the middle of work. _Right. Focus._

“Theron.”

“Still working on it.” Theron frowned at one of the reports on his datapad. “Huh, that’s odd. Some of these files have already been decrypted and translated into Basic.”

“Theron.”

“This place used to be the superweapon’s control room. Our crispy friend here was the last person to use it, over a millennia ago.”

“Theron!”

“I’m still trying to figure out why they were using it!” Theron glanced up to frown at Xaja. “Give me a minu-” His frown deepened when he saw the open fear on her face. “What?”

“It moved.” Xaja was staring at the corpse, her face pale in the lighting of the chamber.

“I thought I was the one who needed to cut back on the horror holos.” Theron looked over at the corpse. “He’s been dead for over a thousa-” Wait. The corpse’s head hadn’t been angled like that towards him before, right? Maybe it was a trick of the light-

The mummified left hand twitched and its head turned fully toward Theron. The spy dropped his datapad as he shot back to his feet and away from the throne, feeling the blood drain from his face. “Uhhh, you saw that too, right? This isn’t a trick of SCORPIO’s?…”

“She controls droids, not the dead.” Xaja grabbed Theron’s arm in a vicegrip; he could hear the fear in her voice. “Maybe the Sith had this world before-”

The corpse turned its head toward the couple, the movement slow and deliberate and not something that either of them could attribute to a hallucination. Xaja made a stifled sound of terror as she pulled Theron a step away from the throne, unable to tear her eyes from the mummy as it started to stand up. “Kriff the weapons. Theron, how fast can you run?”

“Very!” Theron grabbed her hand and ran for the factory’s exit, leaving the reanimated corpse behind. 

They never expected two more sets of hands to reach out from the walls in the narrow exit corridor.


	26. Cold -- AU

It was so cold.

Theron couldn’t remember what planet he was on, why he was supposed to be worried that he’d been found by the Alliance, even why Xaja had been hunting him down from the other side of the galaxy or why they’d been arguing (or rather, why she’d been shouting at him while he just stood there and took it because he was reasonably sure he’d deserved it) when they’d run into each other. He just remembered her eyes widening with fear at something behind him, and every instinct in his body demanding that he tackle her to protect her from whatever had scared her. Something had loudly exploded behind them, but he’d felt no pain, despite hearing her scream.

Now it was cold, and he couldn’t move. Over the sound of ringing in his ears, he could hear her weeping, feel her arms around his shoulders as he was lifted off the ground and into her lap. She was saying words, but Theron couldn’t make sense of what she was saying, even when he focused through the darkness in his vision to watch her lips moving. ‘ _love you… I love you… please don’t do this, don’t die on me, I love you, please… I love you… I love you…_ ’

She was crying, and that hurt him. He’d never wanted to make her cry, although he somehow knew he’d already done that once already. He tried to lift his hand to wipe away her tears, but his limbs wouldn’t respond. He couldn’t even smile comfortingly at her or whisper her name.

There was a white shadow over Xaja’s shoulder, and even through Theron’s blurry vision he could recognize Arcann’s scarred face. He was shouting something at the flamehaired Jedi, trying to pull her up by the arm, and she was having none of it, jerking away to cling to Theron. “I’m not leaving him!” she screamed, and Theron briefly wondered why he could hear that so clearly. “I can’t leave him!”

“Commander, we have to go! We have hostiles inbound!” Arcann pulled at Xaja’s arm again. “We can’t do anything for Theron anymore!”

Xaja looked up at her one-time nemesis, then back at Theron, more tears falling down her pale cheeks. “It’s my fault… I can’t leave him here like this…”

“If you stay with him, you’ll die with him!” Arcann managed to yank Xaja to her feet. “And you are not leaving your son an orphan like this!”

 _Daenril,_ whispered a voice in Theron’s mind, bringing to mind the image of a laughing auburn-haired baby boy with hazel eyes eerily like his father’s. Somehow, he knew he would never see his son again. That should have made him cry, but despite the grief in his heart, he couldn’t shed any tears.

Xaja looked down at Theron again and knelt despite Arcann’s hand on her shoulder. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I’ll always love you, Theron.” He felt a kiss on his unmoving lips, and then she was gone.

Theron managed to follow the woman he loved with his eyes as she finally let Arcann pull her away from him, grief ravaging her face in the last second before she turned to run away. Arcann cast one regretful look over his shoulder before he ran after the Commander- whether to guard her back or to prevent her from turning and running back to Theron, he wasn’t sure. They vanished beyond the range of his darkening vision, and he numbly stared up at the ceiling as the world shook around him. Was this what death felt like? He’d always imagined it to hurt more.

 _If she escapes and our son survives this war, it’ll be worth it._ He still couldn’t remember why they’d been here, but he knew that one fact deep within his heart. _I said I’d do anything to protect them. Anything._ One tear finally trickled out of the corner of his eye and trailed a line through the dust on his face. _I’m sorry, Xaja… I love you… I love you…_

The darkness and the cold finally took him over and he surrendered without a fight. The last thing he was aware of was a pair of hands on his shoulders, pulling him backward into death, and a pair of molten eyes glaring down at him. “You karking idiot…”


	27. In The Dark

Yavin IV had no reason to be this damned dark. Nighttime was already plenty ominous enough without the overbearing shadows of the jungle and the not-distant-enough growls of animals. It wouldn’t have been so bad if the Alliance’s small base camp hadn’t had such a restriction on the electricity generators.

But unfortunately, light was considered a risk at this hour – nobody wanted to attract more of the wildlife than strictly necessary, after the one unfortunate incident with a prowling Massassi. No matter how much Xaja hated the dark, she was going to have to put up with it for now. She swore she hadn’t been this afraid of the dark before being shoved into a carbonite freezing chamber… _I should have sent Sorand on this thing. He’s the one who loves archaeology more. He and Talos would be having the time of their lives with this thing._ She scowled and burrowed under her blankets in the small tent set aside for the Alliance Commander, and tried to strain up through the trees in vain for any sign of stars or moons or the gas giant that this forest moon orbited. Damn the trees for blocking everything…

A shadow loomed in what little light there was. Xaja flinched until she recognized Theron’s stride. “It’s just me,” he murmured as he carefully let himself into the tent beside her, muttering a curse as his head made contact with the roof. This tent had been made for someone Xaja’s size, apparently, and not Theron’s. She twisted around to listen as he moved around in the darkness. “I’m half surprised you’re not passed out already,” he said around the sound of rustling leather. 

Xaja shrugged under the blanket. “Wanted to make sure you got back here okay,” she softly answered.

“Awww.” Theron’s hand landed on her back and felt around until he found her head; Xaja felt a kiss in her hair. “Even though I, unlike you, can actually navigate?”

“Oh, shush. That was _one_ time.” Xaja stuck her tongue out at Theron’s chuckle, even if he couldn’t see it in the darkness. She waited until she felt him lie down beside her; as soon as he was settled, she squirmed over to him and attached herself to his chest. “You’re warm,” she murmured, and tried to pretend that his body heat was her main reason for getting in his space like this.

“And you’re hot as hell.” Theron kissed her hair again and wrapped his arms around her slim shoulders as she smiled. “You doing okay?”

“Besides getting eaten alive by the insects? I’m pretty sure some of those mosquitoes are actually birds.”

“Where’s a damn ginx when we need one?” There was the sensation of her hair being gently carded through lean, deft fingers. “I was more thinking about the dark. I know you don’t like darkness.”

Some days, Xaja wondered why she bothered trying to hide anything from Theron, when the spy had the uncanny talent of figuring everything out despite her best efforts. “Better with you here,” she mumbled into his chest, and felt his arms tighten around her. “It still sucks, but it sucks less.”

“Good.” Theron shifted slightly, pulling the blankets higher over them. “I’m sorry we can’t have any lights on for you…”

“It’s not your fault. I can deal with the dark when you’re here.” Xaja cuddled up closer and felt her legs tangle in with his. It was even more dark with the blankets up to her shoulders and her face in Theron’s chest, but this felt warm and comforting and safe. The darkness was less frightening with her protective spy holding her like this.


	28. Coffee

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pre-KOTFE

Theron’s not used to having people stay overnight at his small apartment. He’s straight-up not used to having people in his apartment to start with – he values his privacy, after all. So when he rolls over and finds the other side of his bed filled with a petite red-haired woman, he needs a second to process it. And when he remembers the events of the night before, how his invite for her to meet him for a drink at one of Coruscant’s many cantinas ended with both of them in his bed, he smiles and brushes his lips over her forehead.

Xaja stirs slightly at the touch, but doesn’t awaken. Theron affectionately shakes his head, remembering their time spent on Rishi and Yavin IV only a few short weeks ago, and how he really should know by now that the venerable Jedi Battlemaster does not like mornings and takes forever to properly wake up. Caf had seemed to be the only thing that helped, and Xaja’s former Padawan, Kira, had emphatically confirmed it. Fortunately, Theron’s as much of a caf addict as the pretty Jedi sharing his bed. He carefully slips out of the bed without waking her up, pulls on a pair of sweatpants, and makes his way out to the small kitchen unit. Half of his diet when he’s not in the field might be takeout or cheap, easy-to-make food, but he _always_ makes sure he has decent caf beans.

By the time he’s filling the second mug with dark, fragrant caf, Xaja’s awake. Theron looks up as she makes her way out of his bedroom, and feels his heart lurch into his throat and a pleasant, tingly warmth spread from his belly up and down his spine when he notices that she’s found one of his tee-shirts. It’s far too large on her, practically hanging off one shoulder, and he can’t decide if the image is adorable or sexy as hell. He swallows hard and comes around the counter with caf in hand, offering one of the mugs to her.

Her smile lights up the room as she accepts the caf, her slim fingers wrapping around the ceramic mug and brushing Theron’s along the way. No matter that they’ve just spent all night touching each other – the brush of her soft skin against his still sends a pleasant jolt down his spine. It’s tempered by a burst of heartwarming affection as she takes a sip of the caf, smiles, stretches up on tip-toe to gently kiss the corner of Theron’s mouth, and turns so she can lean against the counter beside him.

Theron’s not the type of person to get attached to another individual very easily. But as Xaja leans against his bare shoulder and he slips his arm around her to hug her against his side, both of them quietly enjoying their caf and each other’s company, he decides he could get used to mornings like this.


	29. Coffee -- Thirty Years Later

Years of war, of peace, of raising a family, of keeping the galaxy intact for a little bit longer had taken a physical toll on both occupants of the bed. Theron slowly rolled over, feeling the creak of his joints and muscles and every single old injury he’d accumulated over the years. Thirty years had aged him, despite the fact that he swore up and down that he was still perfectly hale and fit despite being on the wrong side of sixty years of age.

And yet, for all of that, some things stayed the same over thirty years. Xaja was still curled up on her side next to him, peacefully asleep. Her hair might have faded from vibrant red to light grey, and her face was lined with care and an old scar over her cheek; but Theron knew her eyes were still the same bright green that he’d fallen in love with decades ago, and her smile was still warm and loving. And she still hated mornings, after years of raising two children and chasing around the younglings at all hours.

Throughout all the war and chaos over the years, they still had their traditions. Theron leaned over and gently pressed a kiss to Xaja’s forehead, and saw her smile in her sleep before he slipped out of his side of the bed. And if anyone had asked, that sound of cracking as he stood up was absolutely _not_ his knees. He slid his feet into the pair of worn, comfortable slippers he’d stubbornly refused to replace for years and let himself out of the bedroom and down the hallway. Daenril and Lynaen had ganged up together two years ago and bought a protocol droid for their parents (and mercifully, one far less irritating than C2-N2 had been), but Theron refused to entrust this ritual to a droid. Call him old and set in his ways (at risk of being punched in the face), but this was special to him.

Over their years together, their preferences in caf beans had never changed. Theron moved through the well-rehearsed motions of preparing the caf, including the addition of the dash of cinnamon that Xaja had discovered and decided she loved. The cinnamon went into her mug and missed his entirely, and then he was walking back to their bedroom, taking care to not slosh the hot, dark liquid over his old, worn hands.

Xaja was awake when he returned to their room, sitting up against the headboard and tugging the blankets up around her waist. Her grey hair shifted with the motion as she turned her head when Theron entered the room, and her eyes brightened. No matter how many times Theron saw that smile, his heart still skipped a beat when he saw that look from her. He kissed her cheek as he handed her one of the mugs, then slid back into the bed beside her with his own caf and took a sip. She snuggled up against his shoulder, holding her caf with one hand as her other drifted down to tangle her fingers in with his. 

Thirty years later, and Theron was still as in love with Xaja as he was when he first met her on Carrick Station all those years ago. He kissed her hair again and cuddled up with her to enjoy their sleepy morning ritual of caf in bed. Soon enough, the chaos of the day would demand their attention and steal them away from each other… but for now, they had peace and quiet and each other.


	30. Thunderstorm

The roll of thunder woke Xaja up from a deep sleep. She craned her neck up from her soft pillow, a frown crossing her face until she remembered where she was. This was Rishi, in the private hideaway that Theron had somehow managed to get under her name, curled up in bed with her sleeping husband. The thunderclap didn’t seem to have disturbed him; he was still sprawled over his half of the mattress, one arm slung over Xaja’s waist, the Force around him calm and relaxed.

Xaja fondly smiled down at Theron before craning her neck to look at the clock on his nightstand. 05:26 in the morning – she wrinkled her nose at the realization that she was up at a ridiculous hour, before Theron had so much as stirred. But Rishi’s storms were loud, and intense, and strangely beautiful on the oceanfront. She carefully squirmed out of bed, taking care to not wake Theron up, and tugged a spare blanket around her to ward off the chill of the rainstorm as she made her way to the balcony door.

The rain was heavy enough that she could barely see the ocean, no matter how close it was to her cliffside apartment. Lightning – natural lightning in shades of white and yellow, and not the dangerous purple-tinged electricity of a Sith’s attack – arced through the sky, briefly illuminating the mountains and jungles within range of the balcony. The wind pushed against the screen door, bringing with it the refreshing smell of rain mingled with seawater and the ever-present lingering scent of the jungle nearby. As a child raised on Coruscant, Xaja had once been afraid of thunderstorms, given that the weather-regulated capital of the Republic rarely experienced such things. Now, she leaned against the doorframe and closed her eyes, feeling the cool air and misty raindrops on her skin. After what she had gone through, she felt that nothing could scare her anymore.

Not _entirely_ true, she reminded herself. The idea of losing Daenril or Theron made her feel sick with cold dread, especially when she remembered those painful days of waiting beside Theron’s kolto tank after the horror of Nathema. The fear of losing her father or brothers, or any of the close friends she had made within the Alliance, lingered under the surface too. And she suspected she would never be rid of her fear of carbonite… or spiders.

But other than that, nothing could terrify her any more. Of that she was reasonably sure. And right now, she had no cause to fear losing anyone she loved. Theron had miraculously recovered from his terrible wound and was with her now; Daenril was safe and sound on Odessen with her father; and at least for now, the remnants of the Alliance had been granted a reprieve from war. Everyone she knew and loved was safe.

She pushed the door open a bit, and smiled as she felt the storm lashing against her face. For years, she had been compared to a fire for being beautiful, yet deadly and unbreakable. Now she wondered if she wasn’t closer to a storm instead. Even with the chill air making her shiver, she loved the wild beauty of the storm, and the way it seemed to clear away stains. Rishi’s storms were chaotic and unpredictable, but the fresh, clean look of the planet after the storm had passed made it worthwhile.

Thunder rolled again, distant now as the storm moved on. Xaja still lingered in the doorway for a few minutes longer, watching the rain cascade down, until she felt a flicker in the Force from her and Theron’s bedroom. She had been missed, even if Theron was still too half-asleep to fully register her absence. She quietly tugged the screen door closed again, then padded back through the apartment, still hearing the sound of rain beating on the walls and rocky roof.

Theron was still in bed when she returned, owlishly blinking as he caught sight of her in the shadows. A groggy smile tugged at his lips as Xaja returned to the bed, shrugging off her blanket-robe. “You were gone?” he sleepily mumbled.

“Just watching the storm,” Xaja murmured as she slipped back under the covers, promptly scooting over to Theron’s warm body and earning a shiver from him as her cool skin brushed against him. “Not far, love.”

“Mmmm. ‘kay.” Theron wrapped his arm over Xaja’s slim frame and pulled her tightly against him, his other arm slipping under her neck to hold her closer. She tangled her legs in with his as he nuzzled his face into her neck, already falling back asleep. “Love you.”

“I love you too,” Xaja whispered, her fingers slowly brushing through the cropped hair on the back of Theron’s head. She felt a flicker of a smile in the crook of her neck before his breathing settled back out, slow and deep, as his Force-signature faded back into the relaxed currents of sleep. Xaja could feel happiness and love mingling in the Force around him, a wave so deep that she could have contentedly drowned within it. No matter how many times Theron told her he loved her, she still lost her breath every time she felt the depth of his affections for her.

She snuggled in closely to her husband’s warm embrace and brushed a kiss against his shoulder. The sound of his slow, steady breathing mingled with the muffled sounds of the rainstorm, soon lulling Xaja back into sleep, held warm and securely by the man she loved the most.


	31. A Surprise Meeting

After the events of Rishi and Yavin had finally settled out, Theron hadn’t expected to be in contact with his newfound… friends, dare he say?… when life returned to normal. He was a spy, Korin was a constantly-moving spacer, Xaja was a Jedi Master with her duties to the Order, and forget Sorand (… there was no way in hell Theron was ever going to cite Reanden Taerich as being one of his friends) in Imperial Space. The Taerichs each had their own individual lives, and he didn’t have a place in them, no matter that he couldn’t seem to get Xaja out of his head… especially after finally tumbling into bed with her on Yavin. That hadn’t been ‘blowing off steam’ as much as it had been ‘fueling a fire’, as he’d discovered. But he had no delusions to the idea that maybe she felt the same. Jedi weren’t supposed to have attachments. 

He shook his head as he stared into his whiskey, ignoring the sounds of the rest of the cantina around him. _It’s not worth it, Shan,_ he inwardly growled at himself. _She’s a Jedi, she wouldn’t be interested in anything long-term, why do you have a kriffing_ crush _on a Jedi Master anyway when you know -_ -

A body dropped onto the stool beside him, and red hair flickered out of the corner of Theron’s eye. “Fancy meeting you here,” Xaja said with a grin as she twisted around to look at him directly. 

Theron blinked in pleasant surprise and tried to ignore how his heart jumped within his chest at that smile of hers. “Xaja! What, uh…” Yes, he’d secretly hoped to run into the pretty Jedi again, but now that she was here, he had no idea what to say. “What brings you out this way? I’d have thought you were doing Order business.”

“I’m on Order business if anyone asks, and absolutely not hiding from the paparazzi who somehow found out about the whole cult business,” Xaja muttered. “Sorand had a good idea with the mask. I might have to look into one.” She looked down at the stool she’d claimed, then back at Theron. “There wasn’t anyone sitting here, was there? Am I interrupting anything important?”

“Not in the least!” Theron quickly shook his head before Xaja could even shift her weight to move elsewhere. “You’re perfectly fine there.” He winked as he made a show of studying her face. “I’d suggest almost anything besides a mask, though. It would cover up too much of your face.” _Which would be the point,_ a little voice in his mind muttered, making his ears go red with embarrassment.

Xaja didn’t seem to mind the awkward flirting from Theron as she laughed, her cheeks going pink in the dim lighting. “So that reduces my options down to running really, really fast and learning how to use a stealth generator…”

“Could always look into a bodyguard, maybe.”

“Oh?” Xaja tilted her head at Theron, smile dancing on her lips – not that Theron was looking at her lips at all, thinking about how he remembered they tasted, not at all. “Are you volunteering, then?”

“I could _maybe_ be persuaded, I suppose.” Theron grinned and took a sip of his whiskey, eyeing Xaja over the rim of his glass.

“So tell me, Agent Shan…” Xaja leaned her elbow on the counter and rested her chin on her hand, green eyes sparkling with mischief and amusement and something else that made Theron’s stomach clench in hopeful anticipation. “What does a girl have to do to get the protection of the SIS’s best agent?”

“That is up for negotiation.” Theron smirked as he waved at the bartender and gestured for a drink for Xaja. “May as well make the negotiations comfortable, right? It’s on me,” he quickly added when he saw her reaching into her jacket pocket for credits.

Xaja paused as a second whiskey appeared in front of her, then grinned as she withdrew her hand from her pocket. “Next round’s on me,” she finally agreed as she took a sip of the drink.

“And there you go, proof that Jedi are master negotiators,” Theron chuckled over his own glass. “We’re off to a fine start.”

* * *

He’d lost count of how many rounds they’d gone through. Their conversation had spun away from Xaja grumbling about the paparazzi, dancing through memories of Rishi and Yavin, chatter about Theron’s job (or what wasn’t classified, anyway), laughing at ridiculous memories of former missions each had undertaken – Xaja was still giggling after Theron told her the story of blowing up the _Ascendant Spear_ in his underwear. A legendary Jedi Master, giggling like a (intoxicated) schoolgirl… Theron decided it was an adorable sound, and he definitely needed to hear more of it.

He impulsively slid his arm around her waist as they finally stepped outside of the cantina, Coruscant’s cool nighttime breeze a sharp contrast to the heat inside the building. It should have felt strange, how perfectly she fit against his side, all five feet of thin build and soft skin and silky hair… but it felt so natural to have her right there like that. Theron decided he liked it, as much as he definitely liked everything else about her. “You know what…” he murmured as he paused behind a lamp post and looked down at her, “we never did settle up on that negotiation…”

“No, we didn’t.” Xaja stepped in front of him and smirked as she slid her hands up his chest and around his neck. Theron groaned when her fingers started tickling the short-cropped hair at his neck, earning another smirk from her. “Have anything in mind?”

“Got one idea…” Theron drawled as he slipped his arms around her back and lowered his mouth to meet hers. The kiss was straight-up sloppy, lips dancing around each other, teeth meeting roughly before his tongue slid in to find hers. Hardly the seductive kiss that spies were supposed to be masters of – but considering how Xaja moaned into his mouth and tried to pull him down closer to her, she didn’t seem to mind or judge too terribly. He lowly grunted as he instinctively pushed her back against the lamp post, one hand running up and down her side, and for a second all he wanted was to get under the jacket and tunics she wore so he could feel her skin underneath. 

A need for air finally broke the kiss, and Xaja tugged his head down to rest his forehead against her own. “Yeah,” she murmured, closely enough that Theron could feel her breath on his lips, “those are good negotiation terms. Consider them accepted.”

“Works for me.” Theron grinned and brushed another kiss against her nose. “Even got somewhere nice and safe to hide you from the media until they kriff off. My place is nearby.” Kriff, when had he last had a one-night-stand back at his own apartment? But she wasn’t just a normal romp in bed to blow off some steam, no matter how much he tried to deny it. Xaja was something else entirely and he knew it… and to his own surprise, he liked it.

A smile lit up those brilliant green eyes, and Xaja slid one hand back down over his chest and arm to find his hand and give it a squeeze. “Let’s go,” she breathed, and Theron would have had to be blind to miss the open, excited desire in her gaze. Apparently he hadn’t been the only one thinking about the abandoned shuttle on Yavin.

It was a bonus that his bed was more comfortable than the bunk on the shuttle that they’d fallen into, he thought as he eagerly lead her toward the taxi station. Right now, he could only imagine how much more comfortable it would be with her in it beside him.


	32. Distraction

Yes, Theron was certainly living up to his title of Resident Workaholic. Xaja sighed as she watched her spy boyfriend reading through a report on his datapad, brow furrowed in concentration. She secretly thought the way his forehead crinkled as he frowned at the words on the screen was so alluring, even adorable. But right now, she wanted that attention of his focused elsewhere.

She fondly shook her head as she padded across the floor of their shared quarters on and came to a stop behind the couch, draping her arms across Theron’s chest. “Hey,” she murmured as she kissed his cheek in greeting. 

“Hey, sweetheart,” Theron answered, not taking his gaze from the datapad. He sounded distracted by whatever it was he was reading. Xaja glanced at the time displayed on the datapad, and shook her head when she realized it was after ten in the evening. Theron must have been studying this for hours now – once he was deeply into something, he didn’t let his attention sway easily.

Fortunately, Xaja liked a challenge. She came around the couch and curled up on the seat next to Theron, and felt a little gratified when he slightly shifted his weight to be closer to her. But he still didn’t put the damn datapad away, despite the clear indication that his girlfriend wanted attention. Xaja lightly huffed as she settled her head on his shoulder, then slowly twisted her upper body like a felinx to lean against him, staring up at this very close view of his ear and jawline. Was that a hint of a smile she saw tugging at the corner of Theron’s mouth?

The small redhead pursed her lips in thought, then straightened back up and kicked her boots off. She turned around on the edge of the couch and slid her bare feet across Theron’s lap, resting her chin on his shoulder. Yes, that was a twitch to his lips that she saw, even as he pretended to be engrossed in the reports he was going over. Well, she could out-stubborn him. 

She squirmed her feet back out from over his lap and twisted around, sliding her head under his arm and resting it on his legs as she stared up at him. The stubborn bastard pressed his lips tighter together as though trying to not laugh, still staring at the damned datapad, although he clearly wasn’t reading it anymore.

 _Stubborn jerk._ Thankful for the flexibility that came with Ataru training, Xaja contorted her petite frame to slide fully under Theron’s arm and came back up between him and his datapad, shifting her legs to straddle his hips. With his view of the datapad blocked, Theron gave an exaggerated sigh and looked up at Xaja, amusement dancing in his amber eyes. “Yes, sweetheart? You wanted something?” 

“Mmhmm. There’s another base crisis you need to fix, Agent Shan.” Xaja draped her arms over Theron’s shoulders as his eyebrows drew together in confusion. “And it’s serious.”

“Okay?” Theron tossed the datapad onto the table in front of the couch, freeing his hands to settle on Xaja’s waist. “What’s wrong?”

“The Commander is running dangerously low on her needed cuddles and needs that problem fixed immediately, if not sooner.” Xaja turned on her very best akk-puppy eyes as Theron looked skyward, as though uncertain whether he should sigh or laugh. “And you’re the only person qualified to take care of that.”

“Well, that is a crisis. Can’t have the Commander short on her snuggles.” Theron chuckled, shaking his head as he pulled Xaja closer to his chest and bent his neck down to kiss her. “Is this now your preferred way of asking for attention, my lovely Jedi contortionist?”

“It worked, didn’t it?” Xaja grinned around another kiss.

“I suppose it did.” Theron softly laughed, brushing his nose against her own. “Any other problems that need my attention, beautiful?”

“Yeah, one other big issue. The Alliance spymaster keeps doing this thing where he gets lost in his work and misses his bedtime–” Xaja squeaked as Theron promptly stood up without a warning, adjusting his grip on her to keep her in his arms.

The spy shook his head with a fondly exasperated smile. “You are such a brat,” he murmured, a grin taking the bite out of his words as he nuzzled her cheek. “You know that?”

“Mmhmm. And you keep coming back for more.” Xaja grinned and wrapped her legs comfortably around Theron’s waist, and earned a soft groan from him. “One would almost think you liked it.”

“The upsides definitely outweigh the negatives,” Theron agreed with a smirk as he started walking toward their bed, Xaja still in his arms. “I do like getting reminded that bedtime means time alone with this gorgeous redhead…”

“Mmm. She’s a lucky woman,” Xaja murmured, running her fingers through the cropped hair on the back of Theron’s head and making him shiver.

She felt Theron stop moving as he lowered her to the top of the mattress, hazel eyes darkening with want for her. “She’s not the lucky one,” he whispered, a heartbeat before his lips found her own with another deep kiss – and after that, there was no need for words between them.


	33. Chapter 33

Over the course of Xaja’s long and colourful career as a Jedi Master, and then as the Alliance Commander, she’d seen more than her share of terrifying instances and people. She’d watched multiple planets burn and die… fought the Emperor multiple times… faced down countless opponents on virtually every battlefield imaginable… took down an entire pantheon of machine gods… and jumped from an exploding train on top of everything else.

Nothing made her heart lodge in her throat and her blood turn to ice like this current moment. She could still hear the echoes of her horrified scream in her ears. 

She ran a step ahead of Korin and Lana with their injured burden between them, frustrated that she couldn’t help haul Theron to safety herself. But when her husband stood a standard foot taller than she did, and significantly outweighed her, the tiny Jedi Commander couldn’t do anything to help carry him out without slowing things down. Lana was already struggling enough, and she had six inches of height on Xaja. 

Korin apparently was struggling as well with Theron’s deadweight, despite being only an inch or so shorter than the spy and weighing at least as much as he did. “You could stand to lose a couple of pounds when we get you back home, asshole,” he grouchily muttered at his best friend. “Bleedin’ out doesn’t count.”

Theron slowly lolled his head in the direction of Korin’s voice as smuggler and Sith worked to move him. “… Very funny,” he mumbled. “Not… bleeding out…”

“No, of course you’re not bleeding out,” Lana muttered as she adjusted her grip on Theron’s jacket. When Xaja glanced back, she could see open worry in the Sith’s golden gaze, as clearly as she could see Theron’s pained cringe. “You got impaled by a blasted lightsaber. It cauterized.”

“That’s good, right?” Korin asked as the group finally exited the lair of Zildrog, stepping out into Nathema’s sunlight. 

“Yeah, except he’s going into shock,” Xaja finally interjected as she turned to help guide Theron and his handlers to one of the abandoned campsites from Valkorion’s zealots. She knelt at the head of one sleeping mat to help guide Theron down, her slim, blood-stained hands holding onto his shoulders and neck. Now that they were in the sunlight, she could clearly see the terrible wound on his stomach, and the way he grimaced every time he tried to breathe. She had no medical training or expertise beyond ‘how to apply kolto strips to minor cuts’, but she knew abdominal injuries were serious, usually fatal. And while she’d survived her own lightsaber impalement incident (that Arcann was _still_ apologizing for), Theron didn’t have a powerful Sith ghost living in his head to keep him alive.

Theron’s eyes fluttered as he glanced at his surroundings, then drifted shut again, a groan escaping him as Lana started undoing his jacket and shirt over the wound. “’m okay. Think… think I just need some sleep–”

“Oh, no you don’t.” Xaja tapped at Theron’s cheek incessantly until he cracked one eye open again. “Stay awake, Theron. You can’t sleep yet.” She looked up, past Lana channelling the Force into Theron’s injury, up to her worried-looking brother. “Get Bowie to bring your ship back around.” Oh, she was still livid with her brother for lying to her all these months, for knowing Theron was undercover and not coming clean with her, and she was plenty angry with Lana for the same thing. But she could tell them off later. Theron was the only thing that mattered now.

Korin glanced down at Theron’s pale face again, nodded once, and turned to run for an open clearing. “On it. Back in a sec.” The usually cheerful spacer was unusually sombre and worried now, and Xaja wasn’t sure if it was more from his fear over seeing his friend like this, or the dread of the impending verbal lashing he fully deserved. He disappeared behind a ruined pillar, already on the comm to Bowdarr, and Xaja settled back to watching Theron, glancing between his face and the wound Lana was slowly healing. 

She startled when she felt Theron’s head turn slightly on her hands, his laboured breathing felt against her skin. “Shhh,” she murmured as she bent over him, pressing her lips against his forehead. She was upset with him too, but she could be furious when she wasn’t terrified for his life. “You’re going to be all right, Theron. Don’t try to move, just stay awake for me.”

Theron forced his eyes up to track her movements, pained hazel gaze focusing on her face. His face twisted in discomfort, and oh blast it, Xaja’s vision suddenly went hot and blurry with the tears she tried to resist shedding. She could break down on Odessen, dammit, not here, not when she needed to be strong (how long has she had to be the strong one now? Years, and the last almost-full-year she hasn’t had Theron to give her a safe space to be vulnerable, and she can feel the strain eating her away from the inside. If Theron didn’t make it… she can’t, no, she can’t–)…

She could feel the backs of Theron’s fingers on her cheeks, brushing away her tears. When she opened her eyes again, she could see visible pain and determination mingled in his face. Belatedly, Xaja remembered how much Theron hated seeing her cry – the idiot would try to comfort her even if it caused him harm. “’m sorry, Xaja…” he whispered through strained breaths. “I’m so sorry…”

Xaja reached up and took his hand in hers, shaking her head as the tears came faster than she could stop them, faster than he could wipe them away. “Be sorry later, you idiot,” she finally whispered, her voice choked and strained. “Stay with me now. We’re gonna get you home, just stay alive for me, please don’t die on me, not like this…” Kriff, she was babbling, wasn’t she? She didn’t care, not even with Lana kneeling a foot away from her and listening to everything. “Stay with me, Theron.”

Theron’s fingers weakly clasped as tightly as he could muster over her own, and he strained to whisper something to her. Xaja lowered her head down to hear his pained whisper better; and a moment later, her heart clenched as Theron’s lips brushed her ear. “Is… is Daenril safe?” Of course he would be worried about their son, even while he fought for his own life. 

She pulled back enough so he could see her nod. “Yes, he’s okay. We’ll get you home and you can see him yourself. Your mom is looking after him.” She just felt Lana straighten up in surprise at that, but didn’t look back at the Sith. Apparently _nobody_ had suspected that Xaja and her father would have sent her son to be raised by his grandmother – and she would have to talk with her intelligence team after this was all said and done. 

“My… my mom?” Theron blinked, then slowly smiled. “Good… ‘s good… he’s safe…”

“Yes, she– no, no, stay awake!” Xaja frantically tapped at Theron’s cheek again as his eyes drifted closed. “Theron, please, stay with me! You can’t die and leave me, not like this, please…” Her tears were choking her voice again, leaving lines through the dust on her pale cheeks, and this time Theron couldn’t try to wipe them away. His presence in the Force, normally so strong and vibrant, faded to a dim light to Xaja’s senses. Something made her think that he was holding onto life solely for her and their son. “Please, Theron… don’t die on me. I love you.” She rested her forehead against his, ignoring the sounds of an incoming XS freighter, or the tendrils she could feel of Korin’s barely-suppressed fear as the spacer landed the _Dancer_ a few metres away. Her tears fell onto Theron’s pale skin, and he didn’t react. “Please… I love you… don’t leave me…”


	34. First Cuddles

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pre-traitor arc.

Theron Shan had prided himself on experiencing more of life than what most of the galaxy’s other residents ever got to dream of. He’d been a Jedi student; he’d been a professional swoop racer; and his career as a spy had taken him to some of the strangest places in the galaxy.

And none of that prepared him for having a little seven-pound bundle of blanket-wrapped newborn baby placed in his arms.

“Here, hold his neck like this… there you go.” Senya smiled proudly at the new father as he stared down at his son, awestruck. “That’s perfect – nice and secure.”

“I still feel like I’m going to drop him,” Theron mumbled as he gazed at the baby’s face, all scrunched up in sleep. Nothing could have ever given him an idea of how utterly terrifying it was to hold a tiny newborn that he was responsible for, knowing his son was so fragile and precious. He very carefully adjusted the blanket folds around the baby’s chin and mouth, watching as the baby slowly raised one little hand, fingers opening and closing reflexively. “How’s Xaja doing?” he softly asked without taking his eyes from his son.

“She’s fine. The medics are checking her over, but you should be able to see her in a couple of minutes.” Senya patted Theron’s shoulder. “I’ll go let her family know everything went well.”

“Okay… thanks.” Theron didn’t look up as Senya left, unable to look away from his little son. “Hey there, little guy,” he finally murmured as he sat down on a chair, making sure to carefully cuddle the newborn closely to him. “It’s nice to finally meet you. I’m your daddy… kriff, I’m your _daddy_.” His throat grew tight for a moment, and he had to swallow hard to get the knot to loosen.

His breath was stolen away in the next moment by the baby stirring, large hazel eyes opening to blearily stare at the world around him. _Oh stars, he’s beautiful,_ Theron realized as he slowly ran his finger over the tuft of auburn hair crowning the baby’s head, then trailed down over his nose and chubby cheek. “Hi,” he softly whispered as the newborn stared at him, as though trying to figure out who or what he was. “Kriff, you’re absolutely perfect, buddy.”

The baby seemed to decide he was in good hands and yawned before curling up as much as he could into his father’s chest, right next to his pounding heart. Theron’s vision suddenly went blurry with unshed tears of love for his son as he trailed his fingers down the baby’s front, finally letting the newborn grip his finger in his little fist. “Hello, Daenril,” he whispered; he and Xaja had settled on a name for their son weeks ago. “I’ve known you for all of five minutes and I’m in love with you already. I gotta admit, I have no idea what I’m doing with this whole ‘daddy’ business, but I’m gonna try the best I can for you.”

Daenril yawned again and let his eyes drift shut, feeling quite safe and secure in his daddy’s arms. Being born was apparently exhausting work. Theron slowly ran his fingers back over the baby, memorizing his face with gentle touch, finally bending over to kiss his forehead and breathe in the scent of a newborn. “I love you, Daenril,” he whispered as the door slid open again and a nurse stepped into the room, indicating he could take the baby to go see Xaja. “Let’s go check on your mama, buddy. She did all the hard work with giving birth to you, you know.”

 _And I’m never going to let anything happen to either of you,_ he silently vowed as he brought the newborn back in to meet his exhausted, happy mother. _I promise._


	35. Afterglow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter mildly NSFW.

The sounds of gasps and moans faded into the soft sounds of unsteady breathing as the room grew quiet again, without the sounds of the bed creaking or of two bodies rocking into each other. Xaja let her head relax into the pillow beneath her as she finally came back down to earth, slowly loosening her grip around Theron. He lowly sighed as she let her legs lower from his hips, dragging over the backs of his thighs as she settled down under him, her fingers lightly running over the scratches her nails had left in his back only minutes earlier. **  
**

She smiled as he finally moved enough to kiss her cheek, propping his weight on his forearms as he lifted up enough to gaze down at her. Her fingers gently caressed his face, and he leaned into her touch, stubble rubbing against her palm. “You’re amazing, Theron,” she murmured, her thumb gently tracing a line over his cheekbone. “Have I ever told you that?”

“Once or twice, I think.” Theron smiled against her hand, tilting his face to kiss her palm. “Still not half as amazing as you, beautiful.”

“Flatterer.” Xaja brushed the tip of her nose against his own, feeling his breath mingle with hers.

“Still the truth.” Theron grinned and dropped a light kiss on her lips before finally rolling to the side, sliding his half-hard length out of her. Xaja lowly moaned in protest, then felt Theron wrap his arms around her shoulders to pull her against him. She comfortably tangled her legs in with his and pillowed her head against his chest, and felt him drop a kiss in her hair. “You okay?”

“Mmhmm.” Xaja brushed another kiss against his sweat-slicked chest and comfortably settled down. “Better than.” She felt Theron hum in agreement, and for a few minutes there was silence, broken only by their breathing and the distant sounds of Coruscant’s air traffic, just barely audible through Theron’s bedroom walls. _I could get used to this,_ Xaja realized as she let her thoughts lazily drift – wrapped in Theron’s arms, feeling a not-unpleasant ache between her thighs from their earlier activities, warm and secure and very, very comfortable. “This is nice,” she murmured.

“Mmmm.” Theron tightened his hug around her shoulders, his fingers tracing a pattern on her bare shoulder. “Never been so glad to have Coruscant downtime in my life when you’re on-world.”

“Don’t have to work tomorrow?”

“Nah. Traded for a day off.” She could feel Theron’s grin against her hair. “Thought the Director was gonna have a heart attack when I asked for a personal day off, for no reason.”

“What’s this? The legendary workaholic Theron Shan, asking for time off?” Xaja softly laughed. “What is the galaxy coming to?”

Theron lowly chuckled. “I put all the blame for this on this really pretty redhead Jedi Master. She makes me want to spend all my spare time with her.”

“Mmm. She’s a lucky lady then.”

“She’s not the lucky one. Just the crazy one with no apparent standards for sanity in the agents she seduces.” Theron laughed as Xaja lightly swatted his chest.

“Just for the record, you knew she was crazy _before_ you seduced her, and you still went for her anyway.” Xaja grinned and tilted her face up to look at Theron’s smile.

“I’ve apparently got a type, and that type is questionably-sane tiny redheads.” Theron smirked and kissed her nose. “And to think I thought the shuttle on Yavin was going to be a one-time occurrence… I’ve never been so happy to be wrong.”

“That makes two of us.” Xaja rested her chin on Theron’s chest and scrunched her forehead up in thought. “What is this, the fourth time we’ve gotten together since the end of that mission?”

“Something like that.” Theron paused, and for a second Xaja felt uncertainty from him in the Force. “… Does that make us an official thing, then?”

“Hmm.” Xaja hummed in thought. “I’m not an expert in such things, but… I think it does make us a thing.” She glanced back up at him, abruptly remembering his skittishness with commitments and relationships. “If… if that’s okay?”

“It’s more than okay, if you want this too.” Theron brushed his thumb over her shoulder in a gentle caress. “I mean, if you, uh… you know, with the Jedi and all. I wouldn’t want you to get in hell from the Council for this.”

“What’s your mother going to do? You’re proof enough that she’s considered the Code more of a guideline than an actual rule book at least once.” Xaja felt her mouth pull upward in a smile as she reached up to gently caress Theron’s cheek. “Besides, even if I do catch shit for this… you’re worth it.”

Theron’s eyes softened at her words as he covered her hand with his own. “That… that means a lot to me.” He gently pressed his lips against her thumb, then lowered his head to kiss her.

“It’s the truth, Theron,” Xaja murmured around the soft kisses. “You’re absolutely worth any telling-off I get from the Council. I want this.”

“So do I.” Theron shifted his hands to caress her face as he kissed her more deeply. “Kriff, I want you, beautiful.”

“You have me.” Xaja grinned as she gently pushed Theron onto his back and rolled on top of him, straddling his hips. He groaned, his hips rolling up against her as he held onto her waist. “Mmm, Theron… Already looking to go again?”

“What can I say?” Theron grinned wickedly up at her. “You’re very… inspiring.” He shifted under her, openly gazing at her bared body like it was his first time admiring her again. “Got another one in there for me, baby?”

“You’re not the only one who’s quite inspiring,” Xaja murmured, a second before she gasped as Theron’s thumb drifted down to brush against her. “Oh, _stars,_ Theron…”

Theron smirked, his other hand reaching up to tangle his fingers in her hair. “Why don’t you get down here and show me just how inspired I make you, beautiful,” he huskily whispered as he pulled her down, catching her lips with his own in another deep, lustful kiss. It suited Xaja just fine, when it was clear that neither of them could seem to get enough of each other – a second later, his fingers slipped inside her warmth, still slick from their earlier round, and she didn’t bother thinking about anything except how good he felt, like he was meant to be there.


	36. Promises

The incessant beeping of a holocom dragged Theron out of a deep sleep with a reluctant groan. For a long moment, he considered just burrowing into bed and refusing to answer the call. The odds of the Director calling him to order him back to HQ and off of administrative leave were low, especially at – he cracked an eye open and balefully glared at the chronometer – 05:23 in the morning.

He heard a disgruntled whine on the other side of the bed, then felt the mattress shift as Xaja dragged herself out of the sheets to shut the holocom up. With a grunt, Theron rolled over to watch her pick up his tee-shirt from where he had discarded it on the floor last night, slipping it over her head. It was long enough to cover everything, although it didn’t stop Theron from eyeing where her legs vanished under the hem of the garment. Even with his displeasure at waking up early, he still grinned at the memory of what was hidden under his stolen shirt.

The grin faded when he saw Xaja frown at the holocom, then answer it. “Yes?” Her eyes widened as she heard the caller say something, too quiet for Theron to make out. “You’re certain? Yes… of course… I understand.” Her jaw tightened before she grimly nodded. “I can be en route soon.” The call disconnected, and she sighed heavily, looking like the weight of the galaxy had just settled back onto her slim shoulders.

Now fully awake, Theron sat up, worry creasing his brow. “What was that about?”

Xaja didn’t answer for a minute, tossing the comm back on her pile of clothing and returning to the bed. She slipped back under the covers and drew her knees up to her chest. “It was from Darth Marr… through a few different channels. He has a lead as to where Vitiate disappeared to.”

Theron’s heart dropped to his stomach, dread making his blood run cold. “Where?”

“Wild Space, a couple of days’ travel from Chiss territory. He suspects it’s something to do with the unknown forces attacking both Republic and Imperial planets.” Xaja chewed on her lower lip for a moment. “He sent coordinates.”

“You’re going out there to rendezvous with the head of the kriffing Dark Council?” Theron rested a hand on Xaja’s knee. “Xaja–”

“If it is Vitiate, I need to take this chance.” Xaja shot Theron a grim, worried look. “I can’t let another world end up like Ziost, Theron. I have to find a way to destroy him first.”

Theron didn’t like it. He didn’t like the idea of the girl he had fallen hard for running out into Wild Space to meet with the leader of the enemy faction. He didn’t like the idea of her going on a mission with no plan beyond “kill the bastard who had hurt her too many times before”. And he hated the haunted look in her eyes – the same agonized look she had borne when she has first come to his apartment after Ziost’s destruction, the look on her face after every nightmare she’d had since.

He sighed, raising his hand to cradle her face and leaning in to kiss her. “Please tell me you’ll come back,” he murmured.

A frown flickered over Xaja’s face as her hand settled on his shoulder. “I haven’t not come back yet. Are you all right, Theron?”

Theron shook his head slightly as he struggled for the words. “… Just a bad feeling,” he finally said, like that explained the immense sense of foreboding doom that settler over his heart. “I don’t like any of this.”

“Neither do I,” Xaja murmured. “But it’s our best shot so far.”

“I know,” Theron reluctantly sighed. “Just… promise me you’ll come back.”

“Promise.” Xaja offered him a smile and gently pulled him in for another kiss. “You’re here. That’s incentive enough to come home.”

The flutter in Theron’s heart was almost enough to break through the dread. He smiled and pulled her in for another kiss as they fell back on the pillows together, taking care to make sure he gave Xaja even more reason to come back to him. But even in middle of early morning sex, the worry lingered. It remained while they showered and dressed, while they shared a quick breakfast together, while Xaja was finally collecting her gear to head to the spaceport.

He stopped her at his front door, caressing her cheek and gazing into her eyes. “Promise me you’ll be safe,” he whispered, wishing he could just pull her back into bed with him and pretend Marr hadn’t summoned her to a dangerous hunt.

“I’ll do my best.” Xaja stretched up on tip-toe to give Theron a long, lingering kiss, as though trying to put as much emotion into the gesture as she could. “I’ll come back to you, Theron. Promise.” Another kiss, a final smile, and she was gone.


	37. Breakfast

A hand on her lower back, Xaja gingerly maneuvered herself out of bed, not surprised to see Theron's side of the bed already empty. _One month until eviction day, little one._ Rubbing a hand over her swollen belly and feeling her unborn daughter kick, she made her way out of the bedroom and tilted her head toward the sound of giggles and a chattering four-year-old.

She walked down the hallway and smiled when she poked her head around the corner to look into the kitchen. Still wearing his favourite starfighter jammies, Daenril had pushed a chair up to the stove and was carefully dropping a handful of chocolate chips onto what looked like a pancake, under Theron’s careful supervision. A small stack on a plate spoke to how long breakfast had been in the works.

Daenril turned around and beamed when he saw Xaja, disregarding the smudge of what looked like flour over his nose. “Mama! Me an’ Daddy maked you b'eakfast!” He scrambled down off the chair and raced over to his mother, grabbing her hand with sticky fingers liberally covered in melted chocolate and pancake batter. “Sit, Mama!” he encouraged as he pulled her over to the table, already holding a card covered in glitter and childish drawings.

Behind him, Theron grinned as he came over to the table, bearing the stack of pancakes and a large mug of caf. From how misshapen they were, Xaja suspected Daenril had had more involvement than just garnishing each of them with a generous amount of chocolate chips. “Happy birthday, love,” he said as he bent to kiss Xaja, ignoring Daenril’s icked-out squawk of disapproval.

“Thank you!” Xaja laughed as she let Daenril pull her to her own chair, giving his auburn hair a ruffle as she sat down. “This is already the best birthday ever.”


	38. Tender

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After Chapter Two of the Knight's story. TW: suicidal themes, PTSD, depression, self-destructive thoughts.

“Sorry,” Doc quietly murmured as Xaja hissed in pain. The dislocated shoulder under his hands was swollen and tender to the touch, but it should be an easy fix.

Yet the medic was quiet and sombre as he tended to the Jedi’s newest wound, courtesy of an angry rioter on Belsavis. He had to carefully work around the collection of other injuries she had accumulated from aggravating what seemed to be the entire planet's population. “You’ve gotta quit doing this to yourself, Red,” he said. “You’re starting to scare me with this.”

Xaja didn’t answer for a long moment, staring at her other hand in her lap and ignoring Doc carefully adjusting his grip on her injured arm. “If I don’t fight for the galaxy, who will?” she quietly asked.

“If you get yourself killed jumping into fights with every Imp you meet, who’s going to save the galaxy then?”

Xaja squeezed her eyes closed so she wouldn’t have to see Doc’s too-worried look. “I’ll do what I have to,” she murmured. And if that required throwing herself headfirst into a galaxy-threatening crisis to make amends for what she had done as the Emperor’s thrall, without a care for her own survival or well being, then she would do it. Force knew she had to make up for the horrors she was responsible for, that she was still punishing herself for.

She felt Doc sigh in disapproval a second before her shoulder popped back into place. Over the sound of her yelp and the distraction of the pain, she missed him looking over at Kira in the medbay door and mouthing for her to contact Master Shan. The Hero of Tython needed healing that her medic couldn’t provide.


	39. Drastic Reactions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pre-vanilla. 6 ATC.

“Talk to me, dammit!”

Reanden ignored the urgently worried-sounding voice coming from the holo. He had preparations to make, arrangements to finish. Anything to keep him from thinking about how his life had just been torn apart. Anything to keep him from thinking about his shattered heart, or the panic that raced through his veins, making him want to throw up or punch something or just scream his grief for the entire fucking system to hear.

“Will you listen to me, Reanden?” Marcus’s blue holofigure sighed when he didn’t get an answer from the spy. “Just promise me you won’t do something stupid–”

“Like what?” Reanden finally snapped, whirling to glare at the holo. “What do you want me to do? Come back to Coruscant and leave this?”

“You know as well as I do that Airna wouldn’t want you to do something drastic like–”

“I’m not letting that fucker go for ki– for mur–” Hells, Reanden still couldn’t get the words out for what had happened to his wife. The image of her body with the terrible lightsaber wound across her abdomen and dull green eyes staring sightlessly at the ceiling of their home was one that was burned in his memory for the rest of his life. Airna hadn't deserved that fate. “… for what he did to her!”

“Worry about your half-brother later!” Marcus snapped. “I need you to–”

Reanden slammed his hand down to disconnect the call, and spent a minute clenching his jaw to hold back his grief, ignoring Marcus' attempts to call him back. All he wanted to do was find the Sith who had ripped the woman he loved out of his life and utterly destroyed his world. But he had another duty to what remained of his family before he could kill the man who had murdered his love. His sons possibly still lived despite their mother’s fate; Sorand at least was reported to have been taken by the raiders under Maglion’s direction, while Korin was simply unaccounted for. He had to find his boys – the SIS and the rest of the damned galaxy could burn until then. 

_And then he'll burn for what he did to my family._


	40. Chapter 40

It was well-known that the Jedi had a very wide and varied range of skills, ranging from strategy to healing to archaeology to piloting. But members of the Order often picked up other valuable skills that were never formally taught in the Temple’s classrooms. Sewing was one of them.

Although, Xaja reflected as she shifted the heap of leatheris on her lap, stitching heavy leather was a talent she had never picked up during her years of roaming the galaxy on Order business. Master Orgus had taught her how to mend normal cloth, but this was a whole new monster to tackle.

She frowned down at the partially-stitched pocket on Theron’s jacket, wondering not for the first time what the hells her boyfriend had put into the pocket to make it tear so badly. It had been hanging on by threads when he’d made it back to Odessen, much like his temper by that stage. The damage to his favourite jacket had not been well-received, and he had seemed determined to spread his grumpy mood around the base.

But the tear was easy enough to mend. It just required Xaja contorting her fingers in the leatheris and frequently stabbing her own fingers with the needle. _I’ll still get it done easier than Seetoo will…_

The door to their quarters slid open, and Theron meandered in, shrugging off his replacement jacket – Xaja privately thought the black and red was quite a dashing look for him. “Heads-up for you,” he said as he dropped the jacket over the back of the couch. “Mandalore’s on her way into the system in a couple of hours to chat more about the Mandalorians getting involved with the Alliance and–” He abruptly stopped, surprise colouring his voice. “That my jacket?”

“Mmhmm.” Xaja forced the needle through the leatheris, pulling the thick thread after it. “I figured I can mend it faster and easier than Seetoo can. It’s not a difficult fix, just a little awkward.”

Theron came around the couch to sit beside her, frowning in confusion over her shoulder at the row of tight, neat stitches inside the pocket. “Since when have you known how to sew?” he asked.

“Since Master Orgus said that one of his goals as a master was to make sure each of his Padawans knew how to mend their own clothing in the field.” Xaja gave her work a critical stare, then nodded and made another stitch. “Hell of an underrated skill.”

“No kidding.” Theron’s hand gently closed over Xaja’s own. “You didn’t have to do this, Xaja,” he murmured. “Not when you’ve got so much else riding on your shoulders…”

“It’s relaxing,” Xaja assured him as she pecked a small kiss on his cheek. “And you’ve already done so much for me, Theron; fixing your jacket is the least I can do.” She glanced down at the half-finished pocket and nodded. “I should be done with this in probably another hour or so.”

“I… Thank you. I really appreciate it, sweetheart.” Theron smiled and leaned in to steal a kiss from her. “My multi-talented, beautiful little Jedi…”

Xaja grinned as she kissed him back. “Let it not be said that I don’t earn my keep around here,” she laughed as she sat back and pulled another stitch through.

“You earn your keep just by being here and alive.” Theron nuzzled her hair, lingering for a long moment. “Everything else is just a bonus, as far as I’m concerned.”


	41. Poor Decisions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Featuring Xaja's best friend, the Taerich-verse Barsen'thor Jakar Forseti, who belongs to my friend Corey.

“Why do I admit I’m friends with you again?”

“Come on, I make your life interesting!”

“That wasn’t the word I was thinking of, short stuff!” Jakar glanced over his shoulder at the sound of a few angry Hutt-sponsored gang members chasing the two trespassing Jedi through one of the more interesting areas of Nar Shaddaa. “You’re on a set mission to cut my life as short as you with a heart attack at this rate.”

“You know, if you’re that worried about cardiovascular _osik_ in your elderly age, Corellia does have good medics on-world…” Xaja teased, and dodged out of the way of an annoyed swat from the Barsen’thor.

Jakar muttered something under his breath that sounded like something rather insulting about ‘kids these days’ and ‘Younglings’ and ‘worst little sister ever’, and pretended to ignore Xaja’s scowl. “So, genius, what’s your next plan?”

“ _You’re_ the one who grew up here! I thought you knew this area!”

“I had enough survival instinct to not come this way as a kid! A survival instinct I’ve apparently lost being friends with you!”

“If it’s been long enough that you’ve just forgotten things in your elder years, you can just say so.”

“I swear to the Force, I’m going to _throw_ you at them.”

“Rude. Besides, that’d throw your back out again.” Inwardly hoping that Jakar hadn’t actually heard about Master Orgus’ favourite strategy of literally throwing her at people, Xaja glanced sharply to the left at an opening in the alley. “We might be able to lose ‘em here. This way!”

“Hells, I hope you know what you’re doing,” Jakar grumbled as he followed the shorter Jedi into the narrow passage.

“Come on, I know almost exactly what I–” Xaja skidded to a stop, Jakar thumping into her back, eyes bulging as wide as those of the Imperial patrol she had just run across. Looking around, she could see red banners all over the walls, and more Imperial soldiers uncomfortably close by, all staring at the two Jedi who had unwittingly run directly into their compound. “… I immediately regret this decision.”

Jakar indulged in a couple of choice Huttese expletives that made Xaja’s eyes widen in surprise as he grabbed her arm and yanked her to the side. Blaster fire peppered the space where they had been standing seconds ago. “At least _one_ of us is a functional adult and can think like one,” he snapped as the Jedi fled. “Come on!”

“Does Master Yuon know you can swear like that?” Xaja innocently asked. Behind her, she could hear the sounds of more yelling as the pursuing gang members ran into the Imperials.

“Shut up and run, midget!”

“Quit calling me _midget!_ ”


	42. Ulterior Motives

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> RP'verse, featuring andveryginger's Mairen Bel Iblis.

No matter how many decades Reanden spent on Dromund Kaas, he was never going to love the constant cold rain that drizzled over Kaas City. This week had been a particularly soaking one, to the point where he was seriously considering begging for a mission to Tatooine, or some other warmer and dryer part of the galaxy.

“Mai?” he called out as he closed his apartment door behind him and shrugged off his heavy leather jacket. At least his fellow spy’s regular presence in his apartment was something that made his long-term placement in enemy territory less lousy.

“Welcome home,” came the undercover Jedi’s melodic voice from deeper in the apartment. Reanden smiled as he made his way deeper into the residence, rounding the corner to see the redhaired Corellian curled up on his couch, lowering her datapad to her lap. “No stabbings today?”

“Not yet,” Reanden muttered as he stopped at the back of the couch to drop a kiss into Mairen’s hair. “If Minder Six mysteriously keels over of food poisoning sometime in the next couple of days, I had absolutely nothing to do with–” He paused, frowning down at her choice of apparel. “Is that my shirt?”

“It _was_ your shirt,” Mairen corrected with a smug grin. “I’ll let you wear it when I need it to smell properly like you again.”

“How generous of you,” Reanden snorted as Mairen’s grin widened. “Do you plan on letting me keep any of my shirts or jackets?”

“Absolutely not. If I can necessitate you walking around without a shirt…” Mairen smirked. 

“The ulterior motives come out,” the older agent muttered as the Jedi laughed. He shook his head and grinned. “It’s not a bad look on you, I must admit…”

“But?” One red eyebrow arched imperiously. 

“… But it would look better _off_ of you.” Reanden smirked. “In my humble opinion.”

“That so?” Mairen’s hazel eyes sparkled with mischief. “You’ll have to get it off me to prove that theory of yours, _Agent_.”

Reanden’s grin widened as he came around the couch and sat down beside her hip. “Challenge accepted,” he murmured as he leaned in for an eagerly-returned kiss, already fumbling for the hem of his stolen shirt.


	43. Opposites Attract

The sound of the front door opening, then sliding closed again made Sorand quirk an eyebrow toward the noise. He relaxed when he recognized the sounds of Mandalorian armour and felt Shara’s familiar Force-presence against his senses. “How was your hunt, _cyar’ika_?” he called.

“Have I mentioned how much I love bonus pay? Because I love bonus pay.” Shara meandered into the library and deposited her helmet on a chair that only had a few datapads stacked on it. “One less pirate captain and a few less lieutenants roamin’ the hyperlanes now… an’ half a million more credits to my name, which I ain’t sayin’ no to.”

Sorand looked up from the ancient text long enough to lowly whistle in appreciation. “That’s a hell of a bonus,” he agreed with a grin as he brushed a stray lock of dark hair that had escaped the nerftail out of his eyes. “Nicely done, love.”

“I thought so.” Shara beamed as she came around to Sorand’s side of the desk and kissed his cheek, then frowned down at the relic on the desk. “Talos find somethin’ else new an’… okay, not really new, but you know.”

“I may never get Talos to leave Voss at this rate,” Sorand grinned. “I think this text predates Naga Sadow by at least two hundred years. As far as I can tell, it’s one of the earliest inscriptions of the Sith philosophy, and if I’m not mistaken, there’s still trace elements of this mindset in the current Voss culture. Some of the phrasing here looks very similar to other texts found in the Shrine of Healing and…” He paused at Shara’s blank stare. “… I’m not making any sense to you, am I?”

“Uhhh… it’s old and Sithy?” Shara laughed as Sorand shook his head. “This is your forte, _Sor’ika_. Mine’s shootin’ things an’ beating honour into miscreant newbie Mandos.”

“And you do that well,” Sorand agreed with a smile. He looked back down at the text, gingerly tracing the fragile parchment. “Hells, the fact that this predates _paper!_ This might be as old as the Dark Temple itself.” The wayward lock of hair dangled in front of his eyes again, despite his annoyed huff of air to blow it away.

Gloved fingers caught the offending hair and gently pulled it back behind his ear. “You and your hella ancient relics, _dar’jetii_ ,” Shara affectionately teased as she left another kiss on his temple. “Cutest Sith I’ve ever met.” She laughed as Sorand blushed brightly, mumbling something incoherent under his breath, and stepped back. “I’m gonna kit down and get a real shower before dinner. You feel like orderin’ in from that little takeout joint near the enclave–?”

She yelped and jumped at the feel of a light swat from an invisible hand to her backside. When she whirled around, Sorand was smiling entirely too innocently at her, fighting a laugh. “That sounds good,” he mildly said. “Let me finish translating this line of text and I’ll send Two-Vee to pick it up.”

“You’re a dick, m’lord Imperius,” Shara tossed over her shoulder as she left the library, earning a laugh from Sorand. The Sith shook his head with a grin and looked back down at the text. One more line of the ancient scroll shouldn’t take too long to translate…


	44. Unusual Phobias

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pre-vanilla, featuring Reanden and his first wife/baby mama, Airna.

Growing up, Reanden had never been afforded the luxury of a birthday party. And Airna had presumably never had such experiences either, growing up among the Green Jedi. But apparently things were going to be different for their two sons spending their childhood as normal civilians. Korin had had the first exposure at one of his classmates’ birthdays a couple of months ago, and he wouldn’t shut up about it afterward during the lead-up to his own birthday.

If parenthood had taught Reanden one thing, it was that arguing with a soon-to-be seven-year-old and his tagalong little brother was a fruitless effort.

“At least the kids seem to be having fun,” he commented, glancing out the window during a brief respite from the dozen or so children running around the back yard. He was pleased to see that Korin’s friends were still including Sorand in their games, despite the age gap; the four-and-a-half-year-old was eagerly scampering around after his brother. A pack of little boys on sugar was a terrifying thing to witness, the spy had decided.

“No squabbling, no brawls, nobody’s tripped and cracked their heads open yet…” Airna laughed as she wrapped an arm around Reanden’s waist, stretching up on tip-toe so she could rest her chin on his shoulder. “It’s not nearly as chaotic as I was dreading.”

“Yet,” Reanden muttered. “You know it’ll turn into a nightmare once Korin realizes he got that hoverbike he was begging for.”

Airna winced at that reminder, but shook her head and pressed a kiss against Reanden’s jaw. “It’ll turn out fine, love. As long as nobody needs a medic by the time the boys go home…” The sound of a knock on the front door stole both their attention. “I’ve got it,” the Jedi said as she stepped away to answer the call.

Reanden turned back to watching the chaos in the back yard, raising an eyebrow as he tried to make sense of the newest game going on. It appeared to be some sort of a game of chase, with one of Korin’s friends being the person running from the rest of his friends. A little dark head appeared over the rest of the mob – one of the bigger boys had taken it on himself to boost Sorand up onto his back, the younger child giggling madly as the stampede continued around the yard with the sound of fearsome warcries and joyful yowls.

He turned slightly as he heard Airna coming back down the hallway with an unfamiliar pair of footsteps behind her; a second later, he registered just what precisely was behind his wife and whirled, reaching for a blaster that wasn’t on his hip. “Where the fuck did that clown come from?!” he demanded, feeling a completely reasonable terror spike up and down his spine and send his stomach churning.

“Tilo’s mother suggested it,” Airna answered, far more calmly than any woman had a right to sound with a clown standing right behind her. “This gentleman was a hit at her own son’s birthday a couple of months back. Came with glowing references –”

“I. Don’t. Care.” Reanden growled. “Not in my kriffing house dammit!”

Airna’s eyebrows went up as she gave her husband an incredulous look. Reanden just felt a slight push against his mind, as she got a clearer read on the perfectly reasonable fear rushing through him. ‘Clowns?’ she mouthed at him, as though not quite believing that was what Cipher Nine was afraid of. Reanden scowled back at her, and earned an eye-roll before she turned back to the clown. “I’m so sorry,” she smoothly said with all the diplomatic grace of a Jedi Master, “but it appears you may not be the best fit for this…”

“No worries, lady,” the clown said with a shrug, in a voice that Reanden was pretty sure belonged to one of Syward University's students. “I’m pretty used to it. Better than the one kid’s grandmother a month ago who tried shooting me. Lucky thing the old lady was half blind.” He turned and sauntered back toward the front entry of the house, offering a lazy wave over his shoulder.

As soon as the door closed again, Airna turned back to Reanden. “Clowns? Really, love?”

“Yes, clowns!” Reanden retorted, as though that answer alone explained his phobia. As far as he was concerned, it did explain everything perfectly fine.

Airna shook her head and sighed. “Okay. It’s a good thing Korin didn’t know about that; he would have been disappointed.” She shrugged and stretched up to kiss Reanden’s cheek. “You couldn’t have mentioned hating clowns earlier?”

“It was never relevant before now! And I was of the opinion every sane person hated them!”

The Jedi raised an eyebrow as though to indicate she didn’t agree with her husband’s logic, then shook her head and stepped back toward the yard, and the newest game that the boys had come up with. “Come on, then. There’s still cake that the kids are looking forward to.”

Reanden sighed and followed his wife back into the chaos. At least the worst of his fears today was a pack of hyperactive children and not a painted demon.


	45. Fidgeting

He couldn’t remember the last time he was this nervous. Even with the hells-damned mental conditioning, he couldn’t remember his anxiety being as great as it was before right now. 

Reanden fidgeted with his glass of whiskey, spinning it in his hand as he frowned at the amber liquid. Fidgeting – now _that_ was something he hadn’t done in years. Decades, even. But this, this was the most nerve-wracking thing he had done since sneaking about the Emperor’s Fortress to break the daughter he had never met out of Sith custody. In some ways, it was even harder. His last memory of Xaja had been as a five-month-old baby, before she could have possibly formed memories of him. Korin, though…

Korin wasn’t the energetic, laughing, forever-curious twelve-year-old Reanden remembered. He was an adult now, and the brief glimpse he’d had of his son in the Coronet City alley last night showed a man, still young, but far too used to fighting, far too trigger-happy. And hells, could his son throw a good right hook. Reanden felt like he deserved at least another one for failing to protect his family those years ago, for being the reason Korin had apparently floated adrift for almost a decade without –

The younger, blond-haired spacer stepped into the cantina, and Reanden felt his heart leap into his throat. In the better lighting, he could see how much his elder son resembled him. Korin had definitely inherited his father’s height and build, his facial structure, his jawline, his hair. But the colouring, the brighter hazel eyes, even the way the smuggler’s brow furrowed as he looked around – so much like his mother’s. And Korin had inherited his mother’s prowess with the Force, not that Reanden could sense it. _Stars_ , his son had grown up.

He felt his heart stop for a second when Korin looked up and made direct eye contact with him. The smuggler’s hazel eyes widened in recognition as he made his way over – quickly at first, then hesitantly, as though he couldn’t quite believe who was meeting him here. 

Reanden stood up as Korin finally approached, wanting nothing more than to grab his son and never let go of him again. After eight hellish years, he finally had one of his children again. “Korin…” he breathed out, reaching a hand out for his son before he could stop himself. 

Korin took a shaky breath, and offered Reanden a wobbly smile, guarded hazel eyes softening. “Hi, Dad,” he whispered. And a shattered piece of Reanden’s heart finally healed itself.


	46. Reminiscing

The safehouse on Rishi wasn’t the first time that Korin and Sorand had seen each other since the day their family had been torn apart, almost a decade earlier. But it was the first time they’d been able to just sit and talk without angry Selkath or Rakata or Revanites attacking them every few minutes.

And despite growing up as best friends and confidants, neither brother was quite sure how to speak to the other now.

“You ever been here before?” Sorand finally asked as they sat on the roof of the safehouse, looking out over the grimy alleyway and, beyond, Raider’s Cove’s bustling market. “This seems like it’s your type of place.”

Korin shook his head, absently noting how Sorand’s voice and accent had shifted from ‘arrogant Kaasian Sith Lord’ to ‘regular kid who might’ve grown up Imperial’. “Nah. It was always on my list of places to check out, but Nar Shaddaa keeps callin’ my name louder.”

“That doesn’t surprise me.” When Korin glanced over, he saw Sorand’s lips twitching in a smile. “Remember when we were little? Your favourite stories from Dad were always the shenanigans in Hutt Space, or other rough parts of the galaxy. Even if I’m pretty sure he left out a lot of the story to make it child-friendly.”

That got a grin from the blond spacer. “And yours were all about whatever legends from far-off places Dad heard. You always had a thing for old stories and shit.”

“Still do. Mythology is fascinating. Especially when it’s not extolling the virtues of some long-dead Sith Lord or another.” Sorand laid back against the roof and sighed contentedly. “Stars, it’s good to be among normal people again.”

“Normally I’d be insulted at bein’ called ‘normal’…” Korin shrugged and laid down beside his brother. “But considerin’ you’ve been around Sith for years, I’ll let it go.”

“So gracious of you,” Sorand deadpanned. 

“I have my moments.” Silence lingered between the brothers for a few moments before Korin spoke again, his voice unusually soft and sombre. “Wonder what Mum would make of us if she could see us now an’ how we turned out.”

“A Darth and a career criminal?” There was a heavy sigh from the Sith before he spoke. “I… I rather think Mum would just be happy we both survived and didn’t end up in prison or completely banthashit crazy.”

“I know Dad is.” Korin nodded at Sorand’s affirmative grunt. “I thought about goin’ to Corellia an’ tryin’ to get in with the Green Jedi, but…” He shrugged. “Never worked out. Didn’t spend a lot of time around Corellia… hell, wouldn’t have worked out anyway. I ain’t exactly Order material.”

Sorand was quiet for a long moment. “I wanted to defect to the Jedi – I would have taken even the Tython Order.” He shrugged. “I just… couldn’t. Too many eyes watching all the time, and…”

“… Mum would understand,” Korin finally said, nudging his brother’s arm. “My little brother ain’t a psychopath-type Sith. You’re still you… fancy robes an’ glowstick an’ all.”

“It’s _still_ not a damned glowstick,” Sorand halfheartedly growled. But when Korin looked over, he could see the smile on his younger brother’s face – relaxed, open, and dare he even say it, _happy_ for what looked to be the first time in far too long.

The smuggler answered his brother’s smile with his own grin, and both lapsed into a peaceful, content silence.


	47. Disownment

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter: trigger warnings for an abusive parent and physical/verbal violence against a child.
> 
> Backstory for Reanden. WAY before vanilla.

“The hells do you mean the tests failed?!” The enraged shriek ground on Reanden’s ears as his tall, robe-clad mother paced in front of the doctor. “I should have you skinned for this! You _know_ the price of failure!”

“It’s hardly my fault your son is not Force-sensitive, my lord!” protested the doctor. “Perhaps if a Korriban trainer were to–”

A wave from the Force threw the hapless doctor into a wall; he crumpled soundlessly to the floor, unconscious or worse. Reanden didn’t have time to be concerned for the medic, however. He gulped and instinctively shrank away as his mother turned on him, eyes glowing sulphuric yellow with her rage. He knew from past experience that there was no pleasing the Sith when she was this angry – actually, there was no pleasing the Sith at _any_ time, it seemed. But he had to try. “Mother, please–” 

“I should have drowned you when you were born!” Lord Tevinel snarled as she closed her fist. Reanden felt panic race through him as he felt his throat closing under an invisible vice grip, a panic that no nine-year-old should have ever felt. He squirmed as he felt himself being lifted by his neck off the floor, pulling at his tunic collar as though that would let him breathe again. “You’re a disgrace to this house and my bloodline–!”

“Enough!” snapped another voice. Through darkening vision, Reanden could see his father’s uniform as he got between his son and his wife. He swore he could see the glint of a blaster barrel in his father’s hand. “Release him.”

“You actually have a spine after all,” Tevinel sneered as she flicked her hand carelessly. Reanden dropped hard to the floor, coughing and gasping for air, his head pounding and his chest aching. 

He yelped as he felt an invisible slap against his cheek before the Sith spoke again, her words cold and cruel. “Pick that thing off the floor and deal with it. It’s no son of mine.” Tevinel paused only long enough to snatch up her younger son, the one who had already been Force-pushing furniture around as a toddler and making her proud, and swept out of the room, all stiff back and flowing black robes and high, proud chin. Reanden’s younger brother – _half_ brother, if what his little ears picked up when the adults thought he wasn’t listening was anything to go by – stared at him over Tevinel’s shoulder, without a trace of pity in his dark eyes.

He started to carefully sit up, aided by his father kneeling and carefully pulling his arm. Captain Achar wasn’t exactly an affectionate, caring father; but the light touch was the kindest thing Reanden had felt from anyone in his family for years. “Do you need a medic?” he gruffly asked, holstering the blaster back on his hip.

“‘m fine,” Reanden hoarsely mumbled as he gingerly touched his cheek, already sore and hot from the slap. He hesitated when he felt moisture on his cheek, realized just how much his eyes were burning. _It’s the slap,_ he tried to convince himself. It was the slap and not being disowned by the woman who had given birth to him, for something that wasn’t even his fault. Hells, he had tried so hard for the last nine years to touch the Force!

Achar frowned, but finally nodded and carefully helped Reanden to his feet. “At least she left _my_ son alive,” he muttered under his breath before pulling the boy along with him. “Come. What your mother does with _her_ whelp is none of my concern. I’m taking you back to Dromund Kaas with me. It appears you’ll be getting your introduction to the military sooner than anticipated.”

Reanden hated Dromund Kaas and the constant rain and even more constant Sith wandering around. But if he stayed here, his mother would kill him as soon as his father wasn’t there to protect him. And he was going to live, if for no other reason than to spite her. _I don’t need her. Father is enough._ He nodded, brushed the back of his hand over his eyes and the shameful tears, and hurried after his father before his mother could have a chance to change her mind and come back to finish murdering him.


	48. Soulmates

For as long as Theron could remember, the words “Wait for me” had been written across his forearm, invisible to any eyes but his own. When he had childishly asked Master Zho about it after learning to finally read, the old Jedi had told him that the Force had chosen a soulmate for him, and those were the last words of that soulmate that Theron would hear. 

Theron’s next innocent question had been if Master Zho had any words written on him. That got a cough and an incoherent mutter before he was sent to go do more meditation exercises.

* * *

By the time he was 15, he was jaded and angry enough to give up on the idea of a soulmate ever really existing. _“Wait for me”, pfft. The hell type of last words are those, anyway?_

It didn’t stop him from flinching somewhat every time he heard “Wait for me!” being spoken around him, even if it wasn’t directed at him.

* * *

He had almost forgotten about the words when Master Taerich walked into his and Darok’s planning room. Truthfully, he still didn’t think about it until after he, Lana, and Jakarro and Dee-Four had made it to Rishi intact and settled into the safehouse. 

As he had stripped down to shower, the words on his arm caught his gaze for the first time in weeks. _Wait for me._ This time, he swore he heard the pretty Jedi’s voice in his head saying that.

 _Impossible. She’s a Jedi! They don’t… Jedi don’t have soulmates!_ Theron stubbornly shook his head and tried to banish that terrifying thought from his mind. His forearm was red from scrubbing by the time he finally finished his shower, the words still displayed tauntingly on his skin.

* * *

He paced around the tiny kitchen of his apartment, balefully staring out the window at the Eternal Fleet in orbit around Coruscant. Zakuul had taken everything: his faction’s independence, his planet’s safety, and the woman Theron was only now admitting he had loved. There was no amount of whiskey in the galaxy that could take away that pain.

And yet, the damned words still lingered on his arm. Those hadn’t been Xaja’s final words before leaving Coruscant – her words had been “I promise”. _A promise you broke,_ he bitterly thought. 

He flopped onto his couch, whiskey still in hand, as he glowered down at the words. They were the wrong words. Or, despite how his heart kept shattering in his chest, Xaja Taerich hadn’t been his destined soulmate. Maybe the entire thing about soulmates was a sham after all, no matter how he had felt when he was with her. 

Or… he felt a sliver of hope cut through his despair. Maybe “I promise” hadn’t been Xaja’s last words to him. Maybe she still had more words to say to him, more than the words engraved into Theron’s skin. Maybe…

Maybe she was still alive.

* * *

“Theron, _please!"_

Oh, it hurt to walk away from her, or to hear that desperate, heartbroken tone in her voice. Theron clenched his jaw and forced himself to not turn around as he strode back through the train car to his escape speeder. If he turned around, he was going to completely blow the op. He didn’t want to see the tears he knew had to be trickling down Xaja’s cheeks or see the fear in her eyes, only half because he knew it would make him run back to her. _Lana knows the plan. Lana will get her out safely. You have to keep her alive._

“Theron!” Stars, Theron had never wanted to hear Xaja sound so terrified or betrayed. “Please, wait–”

Panic shot through Theron’s heart. This couldn’t be the moment when he heard Xaja’s last words to him, not like this! He broke into a run as he pulled the detonator out of his pocket and pushed the trigger button. The train rocked violently as he lunged the last few strides for the speeder. Over his shoulder, he just heard Xaja’s cry as she fell, her words cut off mid-sentence. 

_Lana will get her out. Lana will take care of her._ Theron mounted the speeder and flew away from the doomed train, risking himself for a moment to watch the crash. His heart stayed in his throat until he saw two women – one with long red hair, one with blonde – jump from the crashing train. He nodded to himself when he saw them just clear the wreckage, then flew away to where Korin had parked the shuttle. Time for the next stage of the plan.

* * *

His existence was pain, the epicentre a fire burning through his chest. Stars, it hurt to breathe. It hurt to do anything, including looking around. Sight was becoming difficult anyway, with how dark everything was getting. 

Red appeared over him, and he wrinkled his nose as he felt loose strands of Xaja’s hair brushing against his skin. She didn’t seem to notice it; Theron could feel her hands cradling his face, hear her hitched breaths. “Don’t leave me, Theron,” she whispered, sounding perhaps even more terrified than she had on the cursed train. “Stay with me, please…” 

Theron tried to give her a smile as he managed to grip her wrist with his hand. _She’s here. She’s here. I can hold on._ “Alwa–” he started to whisper.

“Don’t say that!” Panic laced itself through Xaja’s suddenly-shrill voice. “ _Anything_ but that!” When Theron focused on her blurry face, he could see the tears racing down her too-pale cheeks, the terror in her eyes. “Theron, please, not now, not like this!”

 _Why wouldn’t…_ Theron glanced to Xaja’s forearm, suddenly guessing what word had been written on his wife’s skin from birth, then looked back at her eyes. _Not now. Need to… say something… something else._ “… Love you,” he finally whispered. The strain in his chest was worth it to see the panic lessen in her eyes, even if only slightly.

“I love you too.” Xaja rested her forehead against Theron’s; he could feel her tears falling onto his skin. “Stay with me, love. We’re going to get you home. Just stay with me, please… don’t leave me…”

“Don’t… tell me to wait…” Theron heard himself whisper as he sank into unconsciousness. 

* * *

It was time. Over fifty years after Xaja had all but screamed for him to not say that one word while he had fought for his life, he now rested in a hospital bed. Force knew he had spent enough time in these beds over his life. Fitting that he should be in one at the end. 

He just saw the doctor nod at Xaja as his breath became more difficult. It was time. She took a shaky breath, then nodded at the doctor. Theron heard a switch being moved, and knew that the machines prolonging his life had been disengaged. After ninety-odd years, he was ready to go. 

He managed to give Daenril and Lynaen, both standing beside his bed, a weak smile, then looked up at Xaja’s worn face. “See you on the other side,” he whispered to his family, gazing up at the jade green eyes he had fallen in love with so long ago.

Xaja smiled and leaned down to rest her forehead against his own. “Wait for me,” she murmured. And this time, Theron wasn’t terrified of hearing those words coming from her, knowing it would be the last thing he heard her say.

“Always,” he softly answered. He glanced away from Xaja’s wobbly smile in time to see _Always_ appear on her forearm, and knew _Wait for me_ was finally visible on his own skin. 

The last thing he felt was Xaja’s kiss against his lips before peaceful, quiet darkness settled over him. He blinked, then saw Master Zho, smiling as he held out a hand for his last student to take. 

Theron looked down at his own hands, young and strong again like he had de-aged sixty years, then grinned. “Be there in a bit,” he said to Master Zho as he glanced behind him. “I promised her I’d wait.”

Master Zho chuckled and lowered his hand, sitting down and waving for Theron to sit beside him. “May as well get comfortable then, while Orgus and Airna argue over who gets to greet her first.” He smiled as Theron sat beside him and clapped his shoulder. “Well done, Theron. You did good.”

Theron smiled at the praise from his old mentor, and settled in to wait for Xaja. _I promised._


	49. Nightmares

Xaja blinked as she started awake, staring into the dim lighting of the bedroom and frowning in confusion. She wasn’t sure precisely what time it was, but it had to be stupidly early on Odessen, far earlier than she liked to be awake. The hells had –

A stifled gasp came from the other side of the bed, earning Xaja’s full attention. Frowning, she rolled over, only to see Theron’s face twisted in a pained grimace. “Theron?” she whispered, carefully touching his shoulder.

The spy didn’t respond to her touch or whisper, too lost in his dreams to notice her. No, not dreams, Xaja realized as Theron turned his head with another groan – a nightmare. “No…”

“Theron, it’s okay.” Xaja gently shook his shoulder, mindful to not jostle him too much with his still-healing abdominal wound. “You’re okay, love. Wake up.” She leaned in to brush a kiss over his sweat-dampened forehead, and frowned when he didn’t react to her touch. “Theron?”

“Please…” Theron begged whoever was in his nightmare. Xaja felt her heart break at his next words. “Not her, please…”

“Theron!” Sitting fully upright, Xaja shook his shoulder as hard as she dared with his wound, her own fear starting to rear its head. “Please wake up. It’s okay, we’re safe. I’m here, Theron. I’m right here–”

Theron’s eyes snapped open, terror filling his hazel gaze. A strangled cry escaped him as he tried to lunge upward despite Xaja’s hand on his shoulder; a different cry escaped him as his wound made itself known again, making him curl up as best he could. Agony mingled with the fear in his unseeing gaze as he stared at monsters only visible to him. “No, please!”

“Theron!” Xaja rested her hand against his cheek to attempt grounding him, cradling his face as her other hand rubbed his shoulder. “I’m here, love. We’re okay. You’re safe, you’re safe…” She kept talking to him as she finally started to see awareness in his eyes, finally sensed the nightmare loosening its hold on him. “That’s it, love. You’re okay. We’re on Odessen, and we’re both okay. You’re safe with me, sweetheart.”

Theron’s hand finally raised to grab her wrist as his eyes sought out her own, the panic finally lessening. “Xaja?” he whispered, as though he couldn’t quite believe that she was there.

“Yes, it’s me.” Xaja leaned down to kiss Theron’s forehead, feeling his other hand reach up to touch her hair, then her cheek. “I’m right here, Theron, and I’m not going anywhere. You were having a nightma–”

She yelped as Theron suddenly grabbed her, pulling her close enough to him that she could feel the bandages around his stomach pressing into her own skin. He buried his face in her shoulder; she could feel him shaking. “They had you,” he whispered. “They were… stars, I couldn’t…”

“Shhh.” Xaja raked her fingers through the lines of hair growing back over Theron’s scalp. “You haven’t lost me, Theron. I’m right here, and I’m not going anywhere.” She kissed his hair again as she settled back down in the pillows, soothingly stroking Theron’s ragged hair and kissing him until she felt him calm down again. “It’s okay. We’re both okay.”

Theron finally took a shaky breath, microscopically loosening his tight grip on Xaja. “Sorry,” he whispered, pulling back just enough to look her in the eyes. Xaja felt her heart shatter again when she saw the haunted look in his gaze. “For… for waking you up.”

“It’s okay,” Xaja murmured as she gently kissed his lips. “Better me waking up than you stuck in that nightmare. Force knows you've done that for me enough.” She felt Theron hesitantly nod, and stayed quiet for another minute, brushing her fingers over his stubble-clad cheeks and feeling his breathing synchronize with hers at last. “Do you need another dose of the pain meds?” she finally asked.

Theron quickly shook his head, despite the pain flaring in the Force around him. “Not the meds,” he quickly said before hesitating; fear coloured the Force again. “I… I can’t wake up,” he quietly confessed, his voice almost inaudible. “I can’t…”

“Oh, Theron,” Xaja whispered, her heart twisting at his openly fearful expression. Whatever demons he had faced in his nightmare, the monsters he had encountered whlie in the Order of Zildrog, they had to rival her worst dreams of Valkorion to scare him that badly. “C’mere.” She drew Theron back down to snuggle, guiding his head to rest over her chest where he could hear her heartbeat. Her hand reached down to just touch the bandages; Xaja stifled a hiss as she drew on the Force, transferring some of Theron’s pain to herself. Hells, she had hoped to never feel this type of pain again, even if second-hand; but it wasn’t like they had more options.

He frowned, looking up at her as he felt her tense instinctively. “Xaja, what are you–?”

“It’s okay.” Xaja managed a smile for Theron as she kissed his forehead. “Nothing I can’t handle.” Stars knew she was considered one of the experts on being stabbed with lightsabers and surviving to tell the tale. She stroked her fingers soothingly through Theron’s hair, just along his temples like she knew he loved. “Sleep, Theron.”

“But…” Theron frowned, fighting off the drowsiness that already threatened to take him over again. “You can’t… not for…” His grip on her tightened. “I don’t wanna lose you…”

“You’re not going to lose me.” With an effort, Xaja drew more of the pain into herself. Her discomfort was well worth seeing Theron’s face visibly relax as the tension in his body eased. “I’m going to be right here when you wake up, love. I promise.” She kissed his hair again as his eyes closed; he snuggled into her chest, his breathing finally steadying in the slow currents of sleep. Xaja didn’t dare move until she saw the lines in his forehead vanish, his mouth slightly falling open, his Force-signature relaxed and calm. 

Yet she remained awake for the rest of the night, guarding him from the pain and the demons he had picked up during his months undercover. 


End file.
